Never Forget - Book I
by Dr. Nibbles
Summary: The looming threat of Hive Fleet Shogoth approaches the doomed world of Skyfall. 3 Space Marine chapters flock to its defense. All the while nefarious forces are joining in a deadly alliance, and formulating a devious plot that could put all of Mankind in jeopardy. Dark secrets are held and brother is pit against brother in this first installment of the Desolation Company trilology
1. PrologueI - Final Twilight

Never Forget

**By James Jeeves**

[Note: This is a republishing of the story of the same title. I am, in fact, James Jeeves, I just lost the original password and email to the site and was forced to re-upload it all over again.]

**Prologue**

Andris awoke with great pain on his skull. His giant, armored captors dragged him along the ancient stone floor with haste. He attempted to move his legs, they were broken. The taste of coppery blood filled his mouth, and ran down his chin and slow, thick streams. His vision was blurry from his concussion, and Andris wondered if he would ever see the light of day ever again.

He dared to look at his captors. Their colossal, deep-blue armor was decorated in gold trim and gaudy design. They wore long, white, silk robes that bare a blue serpentine symbol. There lifeless, emotionless helms elongated upwards into a Golden, horn-like headdress.

He glanced over at the captor on his left. The blue giant stared back at him, and green lenses showed Andris that he should have no hope of survival; A blank stare striking an inhuman chill down Andris's spine. Even though the warriors face was hidden behind the extravagant mask, he saw the blatant expression that he wanted to kill him. The captor returned his gaze to the path ahead. Andris looked ahead as well, tears and blood streaming down his face.

He noticed an opening at the end of the dimly lit tunnel. As he got closer his vision began to clear, and he noticed several more armored behemoths in the room, all bearing similar outfits of war, though each one was different and unique in its own way. As he entered the room he noticed a large pillar in the center of the room. Large rusted shackles were attached to the chaotic display. The mass of the pillar was smeared with dried blood, and terror rose in his gullet as he noticed two blue warriors guarding a large pile of gray, desecrated corpses. Andris began to sob as he discovered his imminent fate.

His two captors chained his arms and legs up against the pillar. Striking pain shot up his thighs as the tight restraints were clamped onto his shattered ankles. A golden, heavily robed warrior carrying a horned staff approached him.

'Are you sure he's one of them, Lord? He put up a sadly minimal fight.' spoke one of the deep voiced machine-men.

'You dare doubt my judgment?' hissed the sorcerer, turning his golden, elaborate mask towards the questioner.

'No, my lord. It is not your judgment I doubt, it's hers.' The man pointed towards a shadowy corner. A small figure gracefully stepped from the darkness. From this distance, she appeared to be a little girl with pallid flesh and wearing a black dress. Her small innocence transformed into a terrifying aura as she opened her eyes to reveal abnormally red eyes.

Andris shook violently as the young girl-thing turned and cocked her head at him. Their eyes met and Andris felt a cold sensation flow throughout his entire body, as though she was peering into his soul, his very essence of being. _What in the Emperor's name is she?_ Andris thought.

'He is most definitely one of them,' spoke the girl-thing softly. 'And you should not doubt my ability, either, Valerio. I am much more powerful than you could _ever_ wish to be.'

Valerio stepped forward, clearly insulted by her arrogance, and placed his hand on his sword's hilt, preparing to release it from scabbard. His choler was quickly calmed as the golden-helmed Sorcerer gazed at him and shook his head. Valerio calmly stepped back, his head held in shame. The ghastly girl gave a grin and a small giggle at the warrior's expense. Valerio retorted with the loud snort and things returned back to Andris's disposition.

The sorcerer placed a blue gauntlet on Andris's head, the enormous man easily capable of covering his entire head with one hand and crushing it. A silent tear shed from his eye and the sorcerer began to chant cryptic words. An extreme shock flowed through Andris's body as the sorcerer's words sped up. It almost seemed as if the occult words seem to vibrate the reality around him. Several more jolts filled through his body and the lights in the room grew brighter. The luminescent glow-lamps went from a soft mutual glow to a fiery bright light.

Several more jolts fired violently throughout his body, and then, the pain ceased. The room had turned completely white and Andris felt as he was elevated above all space and time itself. But shortly, the bright light transformed into pink and blue flames that surrounded his floating body. The fire seemed to burn every part of his body, the pain astounding and ethereal. His once great feelings of Sweet surrender and tranquility has seemed to attack him and turned his body into a caustic half-living corpse.

The pain seemed to carry on for hours, with no sign of stopping in sight. His once ivory, smooth flesh and crisp blonde hair has been horrifically mutated into little more than a blackened skeleton. He finally glanced downward from his agonized fetal position. What remained of his heart beat harshly in his empty rib cage as the pink and blue flames were revealed as millions fleshy monstrosities tossing balls of fiendish fire at his undead body.

He tried to let out a yelp of terror but his vocal cords have been long since burned away. He uncurled himself and stood up on a rocky plateau that was suddenly beneath him, his incinerated muscles surprisingly strong. He gazed up to the wall carnival horrors, and noticed that their screeching and tossing of flames had stopped, as did his pain. The wall of daemons split, and a titanic beast, with the most exotic features he had ever seen emerged. Its movements unnatural and its physical form seemed to transform with each passing second into a different exotic creature. And then it spoke, its voice soothing and godlike.

'Welcome to the Legion, my son.' it spoke. A thousand different voices seemed to speak at once, all beautiful and elegant. Each one seemed to be a different language and Andris could understand every word of each, as though those six words have illuminated him with all the knowledge in the universe.

His desolated soul transformed to a beautiful exotic bird. He wore robes similar to those of the blue armored warriors who had killed him. He had forgotten about those men. It seemed like centuries ago, maybe it was. He did not know, nor did he care. All he cared about was his new master, who seemed to love him more than his own mother.

Andris flew over perched himself on his godfather's shoulder. _Hmm, Andris,_ he thought. That word meant nothing to him now. Andris Lachtna, the oil driller, Son of Balthazar Lachtna, citizen of the Imperial world Roque VII, devoted follower of the God-Emperor's will. He was none of that now; he was a scholar of the changer of ways. He was a scribe of Tzeentch. Alas, his life truly began.

**I**

**Final Twilight**

Boys turned to men, men turned to warriors, warriors turned to Titans. In the relentless jungles of Irathon, we are shaped. Selected by the high Council of Edina to be cast away for months at a time, with nothing to fend off the hungering beasts but our quick wit, and the tools nature formed around us. By the talons of daemons, we are formed. Those who survive the trials are rewarded like kings. Though painful, we are purified, and cleansed of the evil spirits with the grand organs of the God-Emperor. By the hands of a surgeon, we are perfected. The power of our genes makes us belligerent, yet cunning and wise. For every mistake and fumbled, we are whipped and battered. There is no room for mistakes and an army of perfection. By the lash of the master, we are hardened.

We are immediately thrown into battle, forced to fight for our lives, and for the lives of humanity. With only a boltgun and a combat knife, we are expected cleanse the tides of evil leaving only purity in our wake. By the clash of talon and sword, axe and hammer, bullet and armor, spear and shield, flesh and bone, we are sculpted.

We are taught to live for ourselves, and die for our brothers. For with each death in our number, another rises. Though our flesh is weak, and our bone is brittle, our blood is pure, our soul is pure, and our bond is everlasting. And with that, we, as an individual are weak, but we as a brotherhood stand immortal. By the teachings of Master Vidar, we are completed.

With our honor as strong as steel, our souls as pure as light, and our hide as hard as diamond, we march. From the faux peaks of Elusia Prime, to the shores of the Darien Seas, we march. From the oceans of Austyn, to the cracked deserts of Lutz Ingermar, we march. From the icy glaciers of Silvia, to the rotted landscape of Ilk-Hidaan, we march. From the dreaded Eye of Terror, to the fiery Maelstrom, to the granite earth of Holy Terra itself, we triumph. We are Doom incarnate, and even when we are against the entire galaxy, against the fiercest and deadly of warriors, we march.

**The small and** insignificant dust-world of Skyfall had lain dormant for years in the Ultima Segmentum as a merchant world and interstellar port. It acted as a port for many neighboring worlds and for planet systems up to 100 sectors away. It had seen its fair share of Imperial army garrisons. Its location was dead center in the quadrant, and was surrounded by eight Space Marine home worlds. There was little wonder why so many Imperial Fleets stopped by there when they were on the warpath.

Its people are honest, charitable, God-Emperor fearing and all-around friendly. They had very little to no crime, and the most recent war to reach their world was during the Age of Apostasy; the perfect target for an invasion.

A few months before, right as one of the Maelstrom's arms passed by Skyfall, a small listening post on the rim of the quadrant detected several large and unknown energy signatures flocking from the Ruinward fringe. The engineers aboard the listening Post depicted it as arcs of negatively charged energy, and dismissed it for the meantime. A few days later, the energy signatures returned, only bigger and tripling in numbers. The engineers sent out a vox signal to the ground control of Skyfall. The energy signatures reacted to the signal, and moved in unison towards the listening Post. Within an hour the Xenos brutes were upon them, before any military forces had time to react and move to the system, the alien brutes had killed three Imperial worlds.

**The _Grim Singer_ **was a large and elegant battlecruiser. Its deep emerald exterior struck terror into its enemies with most fascinating vigor. It's the gold trimmed plating has withstood nearly a hundred battles, and has foreseen the destruction of over a thousand enemy vessels.

The chapter of Space Marine's that dwells in its armored belly is known for their most outstanding feats of bravery and countless victories against Xenos and men alike. They rain from the sky in jade teardrops that bear a black Aquila, and a Golden Star that with holds a white skull in the center. With bolt pistol and chainsword, they carve the Emperor's word into the mangled bodies of his enemies. They're cunning, yet brutal; they are the Invaders Chapter, and they are Justice incarnate.

Admiral Kharyi Marcellus sat anxiously in his command lectern, staring out at the doomed world of Skyfall through the command bridge's viewing bay. When their old ally of the Novamarines had contacted him about an imminent Tyranid invasion on Skyfall, he did not expect an enemy of this magnitude. Kharyi and the Invaders chapter had come up against this foe before, but since the Tyranid emerged from the Maelstrom, they claimed 12 worlds, tripling their size. Marcellus did not deny that this very may be his last, and possibly the final voyage of him and the _Grim Singer_. This Tyranid monstrosity is on its way to destroying an entire quadrant of space.

The metal, dual sliding doors opened from behind Kharyi's lectern with a suppressed hiss, accessing two armored figures into the room. The one to the right wore the traditional emerald colors of the Invaders chapter, his armored shoulder pads trimmed with the heliotrope of 7th company. His armor was simple, not differentiating from any of the other warriors in the chapter. The only things that signified he was a captain was the great gold skull fused onto his right shoulder pad, and the two massive gauntlets, heavily wired and charging with electric volts of awe-inspiring power. The knuckles of the fists were raised and hollowed out, to make room for the four dangerous claws that would extract from the inner workings of the gauntlet to ravage the enemy with ferocious power. His skin was heavily tanned, even further revealing his stern, hardened features. The man to his left was the precise opposite of the captain on the right. His armor was a quarter pattern, his lower left and upper right were a bright bone color, whereas his lower right and upper left were deep blue. His torso and legs were cloaked in a blood red silk, that's trim was embroidered with gold thread in an eloquent design. His helm remained on, its vicious red eyes staring grimly into the hearts of his enemies and his allies. The helm's forehead wore a crown of a fine-leafed laurel, which proved his rank and stature. His mighty sword was sheathed at his side in a deep red scabbard trimmed in gold plating, similar in design to his cloak. The sword's pommel was gaudy and heroic, a name etched in its gold guard: _Leon_. Admiral Marcellus assumed that this was the name to so colorfully boasted, "Captain of the Novamarines' fifth company".

Marcellus could not help but smile at the blatant smugness of this Captain Leon, and the so ironic contrast of his two companions. The admiral stood from his lectern and made the sign of the Aquila over his breastplate, to honor the arrival of his new '_guest'_.

The Invaders chapter did not care for highly colorful and gaudy designs on their blessed power armor. These suits were made for combat and battle, not overly exaggerated displays of rank and colossal self-centeredness. In fact, it is of much wonder why Master Braham chose to color their armor in the first place. Tales of victory and past glory were meant to be shared through mind and tongue. And even back home on Ogrys, there were few statues and halls of victory. Back when there was a home, back when Ogrys was alive.

Marcellus felt a shiver run down his spine at the remembrance of his long destroyed homeworld, and the captain of his own chapter sensed this feeling immediately. He quickly dismissed the feeling and spoke for the first time to Leon.

"This is great pleasure I welcome you to my command bridge, Captain Leon." The admiral spoke with a modest bow. Marcellus pointed towards the captain on his right. "I assume that Brother-Captain Abdul has shown you a tad bit around the _Grim Singer_"

"Yes, quite." Leon spoke as though he was the highest authority in the room. "We have much more important matters to discuss than simply arrange words of forced courtesy."

"Excuse me?" Marcellus clenched his fists, prepared to unleash unholy wrath upon the rude and disrespectful _Captain Leon of the Novamarines_.

"I suppose we should" spoke Captain Abdul with a mild laugh, calmly and effectively placed a relaxing hand on Kharyi's shoulder, the massive gauntlets capable of picking a precious flower and crushing a man with the equal ease. "We should concern ourselves primarily with the matter at hand."

"Yes, indeed." Grassley proclaimed Admiral Marcellus, his choler lowered by the embrace of his friend.

"Quite so, Captain Abdul," spoke Leon "Admiral, do you have any more private quarters that we can discuss matters in."

The crew of Space Marine and servitor alike, turned at the grand disrespect to the chapter. The Invaders saw no pride in secrecy. Marcellus's choler again began to rise. Captain Leon has already proven himself as a monumental ass in a few short seconds he's been on the bridge, and every time he speaks Marcellus's respect for him drops.

"Anything that is said to me can be said in front of my men, Captain Leon." Spoke the admiral angrily "And unless you wish me to stuff you into the garbage chute and eject you into the dark vacuum of the void, I'd suggest that you change your tone of voice around me."

The Novamarines Captain reeled back at the outburst, clearly offended by the admiral's threats. But Leon quickly regained his form, calmed himself, and cleared his throat.

"Very well. We'll discuss matters here than." Leon spoke, understanding that further contending his authority was a waste of time.

"As you may know," began Captain Leon as he moved to the center of the bridge, moving toward the hologram stratagem, and the remainder of the group followed. "The planet Skyfall is superfluous with rich minerals and fuels used for interstellar travel and ammunition. If the port of Skyfall fell into the hands of the Tyranid, the crucial resources that lay beneath the desert earth would be devoured. The effects of the aliens absorbing those energies at high quantities would be devastating. The Tyranid spawn-beasts that would be created, and the power overload the hive mind would derive could render the hive fleet virtually unstoppable. If the invasion is not stopped at Skyfall, the Ultima Segmentum would be destroyed."

Abdul placed a massive gauntlet up to his mouth in shock. Marcellus felt his gullet rise almost to his throat at the mere thought of such a devastating toll.

"That would place the casualty numbers well over the hundred-trillions." spoke Abdul "Not to mention the numerous Space Marine homeworlds that would be destroyed in the process. We could lose dozens of chapters!"

"I am glad that you see the scale of the desolation that could be. That is why the defense of Skyfall is so crucial." Said Captain Leon, his pompous attitude melted away.

"So what would you have us do?" Asked Marcellus earnestly.

"I'm glad you asked that question." Leon began punching keys into the interface on the rim of the stratagem. A sphere reliant to planet Skyfall appeared at the center of the table with several markers colored green surrounding it. "The mass of the Tyranid forces will be coming toward the north pole of the planet. We will place what ships we have available to us just outside of Skyfall's gravitational pull, forming a wall five battlecruisers high. Though the ships available to us are minimal, the firepower of the _Grim Singer _and my company's ship, _Triton's Web_ should be a plenty to keep the Tyranid forces at bay before the Ordo Xenos arrive."

"Wait," interrupted Marcellus "the Ordo Xenos will not be here for the battle?"

"Last time I contacted the Inquisitor, they were at least a few weeks travel time away. But that should give us plenty of time to-"

"A few weeks? Do you know how many planets the Tyranid destroyed in one month? They could have Skyfall completely annihilated by the third day without the Ordo Xenos." Spoke the outraged Marcellus

"Admiral, if we-"

"No! There is no 'if'! We are meant to be the ground forces, the ones defending the surface of Skyfall. We do not have enough troops to disperse on land and space."

"Admiral we have estimated that the Tyranid arrived time is at least a week and a half away, that gives us plenty of time to bolster our defenses."

"No it doesn't, _Captain_. Can you read my lips behind that thick mask of yours?" The two Marines raged on, and the entire command center had stopped what they're doing to watch the bout, except for Abdul. Abdul stood thinking heavily and staring at the fluorescent green globe in the center of the table.

"What of the civilians?" Questioned Abdul. The two bickering man- children stifle themselves for a moment to listen to the Captain. "Has anyone thought of what we are going to do with the civilians of Skyfall?"

The group stood in silence, collecting the memory to try and remember a plan. Their minds drew a blank.

"That's right. I didn't think so. Is that not what this is about, protecting the civilians? Isn't that what we are? Protectors? What good is saving the entire Segmentum if we cannot protect a few million civilian lives? Have you even fought the Tyranid before, Captain Leon? Do you know what they will do to those people?"

Admiral Marcellus and Captain Leon held their heads in shame at the onslaught of venomous questions. Abdul was right; the primary goal of the Space Marine is to protect the civilians. Leon unhinged his helmet strap and pulled off his head. His short, blonde hair topped a beautifully structured face. The white skin was smooth and unblemished, with the exception of the ugly deep scar that crossed over his right eye. The light blue gem of an eye that once matched its twin was now smoky and white. The side of his face from the scar was covered in several burn marks, as if acid had been sprinkled onto his face. With a stern and grim expression on his face, the scarred Captain spoke.

"Yes Captain Abdul, I have. And I do."

**After seeing the** departure of Captain Leon, Captain Jiadev Abdul returned to his private quarters. He had a new found respect for the Novamarine. He had not realized the anguish that he and his chapter have suffered over the millennia. Leon and his company have not spoken to their chapter master for over one hundred years. Jiadev considered himself lucky to have such a close relationship with his chapter master.

The Invaders were one of the most closely knit chapters in existence. They drank and had great times of merriment, they fought together and they died together. And even in death the brothers were not forgotten. All four chapters in the Council of Edina behaved as such. That was why the civil war back home on Ogrys was even more of a grievous event. Not that it happened, though, at least according to the Inquisition's documentation. They were not even allowed to discuss the war with their own brothers that survived it. Ever since that day, almost a century ago, the chapters of the Invaders, the Crimson Paladins, and the Doom Legion were never the same.

Jiadev called for his servitor to help him remove his massive gauntlets. The half man half machine scurried over on a power tread that replaced his legs. Its two human arms work in unison with its four mechanical arms that sprouted from its back, to remove Jiadev's claws with haste.

After having removed his claws, Jiadev thanked it and told it to go rest. Jiadev placed his now bare hands over his face and plopped down on his cot with a horrendous crunch. The cot was not meant to support the weight of the Space Marine's power armor, but Jiadev did not care at the moment. Jiadev laid his head down on the pillow and closed his eyes. For the first time in his bi-centennial long life span, he was tired.

**Jiadev laid his** back against the demolished, stone wall. There was barely enough wall to give coverto what remained of his squadron. There were once ten men in the squad, but in the past five minutes, they lost seven members including their Sergeant. The Auto Cannon mounted inside the bunker was laying Jiadev and his squad heavy suppressive fire. Each burst of fire took out a chunk of wall, in no time at all the entire squad would be exposed and vulnerable.

"Jiadev," shouted one of the Marines in his unit "you've got the best position; tell us when they go to reload!"

"I'm not sure were going to get a window like that, Hisien!" shouted Jiadev, daring to peek over the rubble wall. Even though the vox bead was placed directly into his ear, the miasma of gunfire was near deafening. Before Jiadev could finish the words, a massive land raider crusader smashed through the desolate city terrain and directly past the small group. "Come on!"

Jiadev, keeping his head low darted out behind the red and gold vehicle. Hisien and the third Marine followed Jiadev's example. The three Invaders followed closely behind the crusader, leaving only a meter gap between them and the exhaust pipes that jetted upward from the rear of the vehicle.

The land raider stopped, and let out bursts of Hurricane Bolter fire from the side sponsors. Ten veterans of the Crimson Paladins poured out from the gaping maw of the land raider, spraying Bolt rounds into the bunker, slaughtering the heretics. The bunker had been captured; the three Marines taking cover behind the land raider let their guard down. As they loosed, a Bolter round pierced the brow of the third Marine in their unit splattering chunks of ceramite and gore across the others.

"Traitors! Coming from the rear!" Shouted Jiadev over the vox. Hisien and Jiadev unleashed their entire clip into the group of traitor Marines were attacking them. They knocked down six of them, but a dozen more were still coming. Hisien through a cluster of frag grenades into the mix of traders to buy than some time. The grenade exploded taking out only two traitors, but did cause majority of the attackers to go to ground.

By the time the two Invader Marines had reloaded, the Crimson Paladins

Embarked in the land raider had surrounded the two and unleashed holy Bolter fire, destroying what remained of the traitor Marines.

"All clear" said one of the veterans. The twelve warriors lowered their boltguns, but kept the trigger fingers ready in case of another traitor ambush. The veteran Sergeant approached Hisien and Jiadev. He was massive, even by an Astartes standard. His armor, the standard Crimson Paladins colors, a scarlet red for the main of the armor and the shoulder pads and helm of bright, rich gold. The warrior outstretched his massive gold power fist to the two Invaders, as a friendly gesture. Jiadev accepted the large hand with his own.

"You did well my brothers," spoke the masked warrior "if you did not follow our transport from the rear, they would have ambushed us and surely slaughtered us all."

"Glad to have helped." Said Jiadev, removing his hand from the Sergeant's.

"I am Veteran Sergeant Maximus Kodey of the Crimson Paladins First Company. Loyalist. And this is my squadron, 'the Redeemers'." Maximus spoke with the vibrancy of a true hero. It was puzzling why he was not of higher rank.

"I am Brother Jiadev Abdul from the Invaders seventh company. Loyalist. And this is my Battle-Brother, Hisien."

"It is a pleasure to be meeting you." Said Maximus "There is plenty room in our Crusader. You're welcome to come along-"

"No thank you, we'd best be on our way back to the encampment." Interrupted Hisien rudely.

"Oh, if that is what you wish." Reeled Maximus, the disappointment in his voice obvious. Jiadev slapped Hisien in the chest with the back of his hand.

"Pardon my friend, Sergeant Kodey. We Invaders are not necessarily known for our hospitality. If it is not imposing, we would be honored to fight alongside you." Said Jiadev considerately.

"Of course it wouldn't Jiadev. Follow me. " Maximus barked a few orders to the squadron and they all marched systematically into the bulky tank. Hisien pulled Jiadev off to the side.

"What are you doing Jiadev? We don't know this man, he could be a heretic!" Argued Hisien

"He seems rather kind to me," insisted Jiadev, beginning toward the tank "besides, he said he was a loyalist."

"For your information, Jiadev, traitors are not renowned for their honesty." Said Hisien directly behind Jiadev.

"You're too paranoid, Hisien. Relax a little."

"You're too trusting, Jiadev. It will be the death of you."

"Indeed Hisien, indeed." Said Jiadev ignoring Hisien's words.

The interior of the crusader was bathed in a bright turquoise light. Jiadev sat down at the far end, across from where Maximus was seated. Hisien sat next to Jiadev, nervously looking around for Imperial insignias. The ride was rough and uncomfortable; the war machine constantly shook with the violent turbulence received from rampaging through urban ruins.

The sounds of war rang out side of the thick metal walls. The inhabitants of the vehicle anxiously waiting for the metal door swing open at any moment and charge into battle. These battles have been taking place all over Ogrys. Renegades would use the city's inner workings beneath the ground to infiltrate and capture cities quickly and effectively. So far, the traitors' tactics were working efficiently. The heretics from Jiadev's own chapter are overseeing the takeover of Ogrys goes quickly with minimal casualties. Though they had gone against the Imperium, those traitorous bastards still did care about their homeworld, unlike the others traitors that were fighting in this war.

The primary blame for the destruction here was pinned on the Doom Legion. Their violent ways and disregard toward the Codex had the Ordo Hereticus constantly checking in on the chapter. Apparently they did not have a close enough eye on them. Five months ago five Doom Legion battlecruisers entered suborbital altitudes above Ogrys, and began raining fire down upon the most heavily populated cities. In one hour over one hundred million innocents were killed. Though the Invaders were sometimes considered savage, they always thought of protecting before destroying and never disregarded human life like the traitor Doom Legion does. Though not all of the Doom Legion is evil, there are still good within their mix, like their chapter master Nathaniel Vidar, "the Valkyrie". He was one of the most noble and courageous Marines Jiadev had ever seen. It gave Jiadev great pleasure to know that he was fighting on the same planet as the Valkyrie.

The tank shook with violent ferocity, and the crusader stopped dead in its tracks. The cabin quickly flushed from a pleasing blue to a blood red, and several warning Klaxons ring in the ears of the inhabitants, the vox speaker in the rear wall of the machine cast out of crackling voice of the driver.

"Sergeant!" The driver shouted with great urgency "we're taking heavy fire, devastator squadrons on all facings. They've got lascannons! I-I don't know how they managed to stay off the auspex."

"Calm yourself, brother. Just focus on covering us." Even in moments of peril Maximus maintained his calm. It was truly a fine leader. "Arthus, open the hatches. Redeemers, prepare for things to get hot. Keep your head low and aim high."

The one called Arthus stood and pushed an emergency release button next to the front hatch. The doors remains tightly shut.

"They're jammed! They aren't going to open." Said Arthus

"Stand back Marines!" Shouted Maximus as he marched to the front hatch sternly. He pulled his mighty power fist back and mighty jolts of electricity danced around the glorious weapon. Jiadev smiled in amazement at the sergeant's heroism.

Maximus whispered a quite psalm to calm the machine spirit, and punched the mighty weapon into the hatch, knocking it off its thick hinges, and sending it ten meters out into the open square. Maximus stood straight and sucked in a fresh breath of air as the remainder of the warriors poured out of the opening, bolters ablaze. Maximus turned around to see the two Invaders still sitting.

"Are you going to fight, are you going to sit on your asses all day?" The sergeant asked. The sun hit him perfectly, forming corona around his magnificent red and gold armor. Sergeant stepped out of the vehicle and fired his self-customized storm bolter into the ashen buildings that surrounded the square. Jiadev and Hisien jumped out of the vehicle following the heroic commands of Maximus, verbatim.

The veterans as a whole follow some of the greatest skill Jiadev had ever seen. One veteran carrying a Heavy Bolter fired scores of hellfire rounds into the third story of a building across the open square, eliminating an entire squad. Maximus and four other veterans charge into a building where a large squad of Marines was taking refuge. The firing ceased, and the windows lit with yellow and blue light as the veterans fired deadly, altered Bolter rounds into the enemy while Maximus crushed them with his holy power fist.

Jiadev, Hisien and the other veterans work their way to the center of the square. They took cover behind stone benches, planters and most stood behind a glorious statue the Emperor. Jiadev dared to glance out from behind the statue to see the enemy squads advancing from the building. Jiadev fired several shots blindly into the oncoming crowd. Maximus and his veterans jumped out of the fourth story window finished with the squad they were fighting. He quickly ran to the statue while firing into the multiple units converging on them. A frag missile hit and detonated behind them, killing two of the veterans.

When Maximus arrived at the statue, and quickly began to climb onto the podium the statue was built on.

"Brothers! With me! Show these traitorous bastards the true wrath of the Emperor!" The words of the glorious Sergeant spoke energized Jiadev into a frenzy. He switched Bolter to automatic fire and unleashed his entire clip into the innumerable traitor Marines.

All the loyalists in the square did the same, littering the ground with corpses of the hated enemy. As the loyalists increased their firepower, so did the traitors. Multiple las beams struck the statue severing it in half at the waist. Maximus and Jiadev quickly dodged all the way at the toppling statue. However three veterans were not so lucky, as they were crushed and killed instantly under the might of the Granite.

"Damn you all to hell!" Shouted Maximus unloading his gun into the traitors.

Jiadev glanced over to the side and noticed three traitor Marines entering the cabin of the crusader, as they did this its hurricane bolters ceased to fire. The traitors exited and quickly told their squad to take cover. Within seconds the multiple Melta-bombs the traitors had placed inside detonated causing a massive explosion to erupt. The blast took two weakened buildings down with it, causing dust and gravel to fill the entire square.

Jiadev's helm began to sputter out of commission, he threw it to the ground, his enhanced senses would be an ample guide. He spotted two huddling silhouettes on his right side. _Trying to flank us_, he thought, raising his Boltgun. It wasn't until he fired that he heard Kodey shout, "NO!" He turned and looked at Kodey, his massive power fist extended in attempt to intercept Jiadev's bolter fire; Kodey's neck spat red blood, Kodey spun and fell to the concrete. He was hit.

The dust cleared and Jiadev turned to see what he had done. The two huddled figures were uncurled on the ground, dead. Though they weren't two, they were four. A man, a woman, and two young girls. Jiadev's eyes welted with tears, and out of pure instinct he dropped his gun and ran for them.

The bolt rounds of his allies began to halt; they were losing men, fast. Jiadev dodged bullets with luck alone. He could not hear a single noise, but that of the shallow breathing of a small girl atop of her parents' corpses. Jiadev dropped to his knees five meters from the girl, and slid next to her. He stood over her in awestruck terror. Her mouth foamed with blood, her heart skipped beats. He embraced the small child, no more than seven summers old, and wept as she looked at him blankly.

He closed her eyes, and held her close. She was dead; they were all dead, by his hand. His terror was shot away by the cold ring of a blot pistol muzzle held at his temple. Jiadev closed his eyes, he was fine with death, and he could no longer consider himself a protector of man. He heard the hammer drop, and the shot rang out amongst the field of the dead.

**Jiadev's body shot** up in sudden shock. The chains holding his cot on the wall gave. Suddenly he was flat on the floor, his spine jarring with sudden pain.

"Oh, Emperor's tit!" he cursed. He rolled over and sat up.

"Would you like me to call the Tech Priest for a new cot, lord?" spoke the metallic cords of the servitor.

"No." Answered Jiadev, and turning to the little machine man "No, I've slept enough. How long was I out?"

"By my count, seven hours."

"What?" Shouted Jiadev, the back of his hand raised, ready to strike down the servitor "Why the hell did you not wake me? I was supposed to meet Commander Tahmid three hours ago."

The servitor raised its metallic arms to defend itself.

"You looked peaceful, my lord." Its monotonous voices far from parallel its terrified face. Jiadev lowered his hand, and calmed himself. He shouldn't take his anger out on the innocent servant.

"Well I wasn't." he spoke

"Would you like me to re assemble your lightening claws, lord?"

"No, I just take my standard gauntlets and vambraces, no time for the claws. You can order me another cot though."

"I am your will, my lord." The servitor wheeled out of the small room. Jiadev adjusted his gauntlets, and picked up his helm. He caught a glimpse of himself in the serenely polished steel that sits above his wash bowl. He rubbed the long white scar that lay just above his temple, almost as if to comfort himself. He put on his emerald helm and walked out.

**The scene of** Castle Rock was a living nightmare. The men have been working for days without rest, attempting to cut out a successful trench system in the mountain side. Several workers had died due to overheating, exhaustion, or machinery accidents. They couldn't hold for much longer. No one knew this better than Commander Ashok Tahmid.

Tahmid had lived on Skyfall half his life, and he had never seen such a happening of dismay and sufferance. Times of war brought out the worst in people. Tahmid witnessed the terror of it firsthand. When he was young and spunky, Ashok signed up for the Steel Legion, he had never thought that the third Armageddon war could be so terrible. Seven hundred men joined and died in his platoon. Many of them he had fallen very close to.

Two of his best friends were gunned down by orks. They were reduced to nothing more than ripped flesh and clouds of pink. The woman, whom he had fallen deeply in love with, was maimed by the whirling axe of an ork. And his own eldest brother and his admirable sergeant were crushed by the claws of Ghazgul himself. The massive green beast was wretchedly ugly, and stank to high heaven. But unlike the other ork, he wasn't stupid, he didn't just kill things, he murdered them. He looked them in the eye before he viscously tore them apart.

A wave of warm desert air hit Tahmid's face, snapping him back to reality. Tahmid took a long, hard inhale on his Catachan cigar. The Catachan division may be an ignorant, rowdy bunch, but they know how to brew ale and wrap cigars. Tahmid looked to his promptly dressed commissar.

"Anwar," gruffly spoke the Commander "When was that Captain supposed to arrive again?"

"Three hours ago, sir." Spoke the sickly, albino commissar, stuffed with arrogance.

"Damn him! I thought he was supposed to be prompt!" Tahmid's scraggly black hair was covered by a light blue and white head-wrap. His eyes and most of his facial features were covered by the large and thick sun shields. What could be seen of his face were the deep, jagged scars that ran like long caverns along a dark rock desert. He was wearing typical Skyfall robes over his brown and black carapace armor.

"That egotistical bastard best show his face within the next twenty minutes," venomously said the commander "or I'll personally rip his God-Emperor damned hearts out through his-"

"Through my what, Commander Tahmid?" the mighty form of Captain Abdul had approached him from behind without the slightest notion of his arrival.

"Ah, Captain Abdul." Quickly rectified the human commander, "It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance."

"You can cut the bureaucratic jibber-jabber, Commander. I've heard enough of your opinionated voice for one day."

Abdul turned on his heel in enough time to miss the embarrassed flush run down Tahmid's dark cavernous face. The Invaders captain lead the two Imperial Guardsmen into the makeshift redoubt carved into the red face of Castle Rock. Tahmid took another long draw on his cigar as he followed the Space Marine through the dimly lit hallway.

The group shortly arrived at the main control room. Tahmid stepped over the massive power cords that ran across the floor and up the rockcrete walls, undoubtedly leading to portable plasma generators. The mass of wires and power cords stretched across the small room, leading to auspex equipment, primary vox control units, controls for the automated gun batteries lining the length of Castle Rock, and Terra knows what else. Several of the cords lead to a large, round hololith in the center of the room. The holographic display of Castle Rock covered half of the table, the other half a display of the city contained within the stone womb of the mount. There were two other figures standing around the table. The first a slender woman dressed in a deep red robe with a black shawl, Tahmid recognized as Governor Amira, head diplomat of Skyfall. The second was a man, he was not a native, but Tahmid has met him before. He is Colonel Cyprian, a Commander for the Death Korps of Krieg; he fought with him on his first tour of Armageddon. Abdul was the first to speak amongst the group.

"My apologies for my tardiness, there was a slight mix up with my Thunderhawk."

"No reason for such grievances here, Captain." the Governor spoke with great poise and self determination.

"How goes the trench work, thus far Commander?" Spoke Cyprian to Tahmid.

"Their losing energy quickly. Our workers have never been forced this hard this fast.'

'I second that' said the lithe woman 'These people are not industrial servitors. They're tired and weak.'

'Your concern of your people is completely rational Governor,' said Abdul. 'But as of now it's either a few casualties now, or the entire planet later.'

'Earlier today,' he continued 'I was informed that the Tyranid arrival was nearly a week and a half away, and that the nearest reinforcements were at least a month after that.'

The people in the room made a subsequent gasp. _Not entirely unexpected, _thought Abdul. As he began to speak again, he keyed in several digits into the hololith interface to represent his following words.

'My primary strategy for the defense of this city, was to place Leon's men and my men within the front ranks-'

'Negative,' interrupted the Death Korps commander. 'My men fight in the front rank, always.'

'Colonel, I don't think your men would make it past the first wave, if you did that.' Retorted the space marine.

'Wave? How do you know there will be multiple attacks?' Asked the ignorant Colonel 'We could send their arses reeling after the first few hours of combat! Right Tahmid?' both he and his commissar said nothing.

'I don't think you understand the scale of what you're dealing with.' Said Anwar.

'Cyprian, if your track record is correct, you fought in the third Armageddon war, right?' Said Abdul, his voice echoing with inpatients.

"Veteran of Armageddon indeed.' Spoke Cyprian with stomach churning gusto.

'Imagine orks, with five times the numbers, five times the deadliness, five times the lack of care for life. Imagine every single ork is a mindless gob who will kill itself just to slow the advancing of a tank. Imagine an ork that changes the atmosphere. Imagine an ork, with no fear, morals, or even personal opinions. It never retreats, it never stops, it always comes back, and it always remembers you. Now tell me if you can handle that.'

**The group emerged** from the command room much later. The once bright and upright sun is now falling beneath the horizon. The sky rippled with red clouds atop a purple and blue back drop. The desert landscape reflects this color show with magnificence only the force of nature can provide.

Tahmid's mind exhausted, and this isn't even the battle. He has no idea how this underground city is going to survive what these brutes have to offer. He doesn't even know how he'll survive it. The grizzled veteran pulled his last cigar out of his pocket, lighting it as he watched the aurora of Skyfall's sun reach what could very well be its final twilight.

Tahmid took a long draw of the powerful cigar, and muttered to himself, as the greenish smoke escapes his mouth. 'Emperor protect us.'


	2. II - Vicious Ancients

II

**Vicious Ancients**

**The mechanical hooves** of Lord Varlogo Ashsinger's daemon-engine mount pounded against the soil of Roque VII's lush landscape. His yellowed eyes were drawn upward from behind his diabolical skull shaped visor to the towering drill spires forged by the followers of the corpse-god. Toxic ash spewed from the mouth of the tallest spire causing all life within kilometers distance to wither and die. Beneath the powerful drill engine lie catacombs a thousand kilometers deep, well out of auspex range. Varlogo and his war band known solely as the Knights of Blood had joined in this expedition with the promise of war, plunder and rape. So far his men had the pleasure of ending the lives of thousands on this frontier world, but Varlogo would not be pleasured until he found a glorious bout against one of the Emperor's finest, a Space Marine. Samuels had promised him such, yet the champion of the blood god waited for the incursion to begin.

The Juggernaut he sat atop powered forward with speeds that toppled the trees as they passed by. Varlogo held the bag of severed human heads with a death grip in his right hand and the reins of the daemon engine with his left. Why the daemon-host that Samuels entrusted with an overseer's position had asked of him to find a new refugee colony every night and sever their heads while they still lived Varlogo would never know. It was a fun but menial task, thought Varlogo, especially since they are going to such a wasteful purpose such as sorcery.

The night sky above Varlogo changed from navy blue with white speckles to a brownish-red that that radiated with unholy energies. The sky changed into an aurora of colors that should not exist, signifying to the Khornate Champion that he grew closer to his destination. The Daemon axe, Rynau, that Varlogo had slung over his shoulder hissed as it sensed the presence of his hated enemy.

"Soon my friend," spoke the Knight of Blood "Soon you will feast on the Slaaneshii's blood."

The forest cleared to reveal a clearing of dried dead earth. A tall gate forged of otherworldly metals blocked his path to the drill spire. At the entrance two large daemon engines blocked his path, their black and steel frames fashioning cloaks of flayed flesh and skewed skulls. They hissed as the Lord approached. Varlogo pulled back with his black gauntlet forcing the Juggernaut to slow to a trot. His brass hooves clanked against the cracking earth as if it were made of metal, not dirt. One of the daemon engines crawled forward on long spider like limbs and spat cryptic word-like hisses at the Khornate lord.

"I bare offerings to the daemon-host." shouted Varlogo, his voice carried by the vox in his black and red armor. He held a burlap sack high, a viscous fluid dripping from the blackened bottom. Flies swarmed around the sack, desperate to taste its horrid contents.

The daemon engine withdrew and the gates opened almost automatically. Varlogo smiled beneath his mask and entered the hellish encampment.

**The cold emptiness** of the void gives home to no other form life like the tyranny. The monstrous, chitins creatures jumped from world to world, firing thousands upon thousands of spore pods carrying trillions of animalistic soldiers to annihilate every last life form and absorb all minerals the planet could expend before it was nothing but a burning shameful husk. Skyfall was going to be a prize to the Hive Fleet Kha'lei. The vanguard of the hive fleet could finally see the jewel in the crown and all its resourceful glory.

The hive ship, the head of the serpent, mother of the spawn lings, roared in hunger at the sight of the orange dot off in the distance. If one sees, then all see. The soundless void filled with the vibration of noise as the entire vanguard fleet roared in premature triumph. The noise abruptly ended however, the massive eye of the hive ship blinked as it received commands from its mother. This planet is vital for the hive fleet to devour, and because of this, a creature of legend must be birthed. With a moan of pain, innumerable man-sized spores were vomited from the underbelly of the hive ship followed closely by a succession of spore pods carrying the DNA of a vicious ancient.

**Admiral Priscus Michel** of the Novamarines entered his bridge and immediately extended his hand for the mug of hot recaff with fresh grox milk. The servitor that delivered the large mug motored backward, its daily routine completed. Priscus sipped the hot brownish fluid, the heat normally too hot for a normal human, soothed the throat of this descendent of Ultramar. He released a sigh of enjoyment at this simple pleasure the skipper of the vessel _Triton's Web_ had grown all too comfortable with.

"Admiral on deck." Shouted the Vice Admiral, clad, full in the red armor of a Techmarine. Marine and guardsmen alike stood and made the sign of the Imperial Aquila over their chest in salute.

"At ease." He spoke sitting in his chair and drinking from the large mug crafted by the hands of a pauper child of Calavan. The Vice Admiral followed close behind with purpose and disciple in his step.

"All systems are functional, Thracius?" asked the Admiral

"All systems functional, Admiral." Spoke the Vice Admiral with a voice so deep it could be determined through the vox of his red helmet crafted on Mars.

"Bring up bow visuals." Said Priscus placing his cup down. The display screen that covered the entire front wall of the bridge flashed showing the void of space. "Stern, starboard and port in that order."

"Aye, Admiral." Spoke the officer controlling the screen.

As the screens changed the two high ranking marines spoke to one another.

"How long until the Xenos come into contact, Thracius?"

"75.98 hours in counting, Admiral." Spoke Thracius sternly, his gaze not breaking from the view screen.

"Doesn't give us much time does it?" sighed Priscus running his fingers through his shoulder length dirty blonde hair.

"No, Admiral, it doesn't." Spoke the Techmarine emotionlessly. "The Ordo Xenos crafts just entered warp space 17 hours ago, if the warp plays along and the fleet has a smooth ride we shall be seeing reinforcements within the next two weeks."

"Thracius old friend, you know as well as I that the warp is a fickle bitch. We'll be lucky if we see them by the turn of the century." Laughed Priscus

"I am pleased to see your sense of humor is not dulled by the situation any, Admiral." Said the Techmarine "I have studied much of the astronomicon and I believe that the machine-god and God-Emperor will guide the vessels to our side quickly."

Priscus let a frown break through his pleasant demeanor temporarily before rebuilding it with a clever quip.

"Do you always act so stern, old friend? I swear the way you handle ever situation is like an equation. Even just us talking. If I didn't know any better I'd think you were a servitor that got switched to Fifth Company by mistake." The Admiral chuckled at his joke but Thracius let no slight of emotion be seen.

"Oh relax, I'm only joking." Smiled the Admiral.

"War is a joke to you, Admiral?"

"Forgive me for using humor to stay sane in times of high stress."

"That is where faith is to be subjugated. Not clever jesting."

Before Priscus could reply an Imperial officer turned and shouted at his Admiral worriedly.

"Admiral, picking up a large energy signature 10,000km off the bow and closing at 300naughts a second."

"Impossible," charged Thracius, his deep voice resonating throughout the whole bridge "Check that again and have a techpriest inspect the grand auspex."

"Aye Vice Admiral, lord." The officer played with the controls but the energy signature appeared yet again and all that had changed was the size. "Admiral, multiple energy signatures closing at 300naughts a second."

"Bring it up on the screen!" bellowed Priscus. His eyes widened at the swarm of green and blue creatures forming a wall nearly 5,000km away from the fleet wall. "You said they were 76 hours away, damn it!"

"They are Admiral; I swear it on my life. These are spores."

"Admiral I have 5 other vessels on the vox line awaiting your command." Spoke the Rear Admiral.

"What?" questioned Priscus ignoring the Rear Admiral.

"4,000km." spoke the officer.

"Spores, some sort of troglodyte lower life form. Usually used as shields or-"

"Admiral Michel what are your orders?" barked the Rear Admiral

"Or what Vice Admiral?" shouted Priscus.

"3,000km and closing Admiral."

"Bombs." The words fell heavy out of Thacius's mouth and crashed onto Priscus's shoulders with the dead weight of a dreadnought.

"Throne be damned, Admiral! What are your orders?" Shouted the Rear Admiral. Sweating heavily, Priscus rectified himself and began barking orders to his crew.

"Arm primary guns Beta 12 through Gamma 13. Aim and prepare to engage. Rear Admiral Ampelius," Ordered Priscus. "Bring up skipper's for _Void's Cry_, _Emperor's Child_, _the Grim Singer_, _Impregnable_ and the _Independence_. Activate reverse thrusters at full speed."

"Admiral that will pull us to far into Skyfall's atmosphere, we'll be caught in the gravitational pull." Retorted Thracius with graveness in his voice.

"2,550km and closing."

"I know what I'm doing Thracius." Spoke Priscus.

"Admiral, I strongly advise-"

Thracius was cut short by a crackle of the vox line. "Admiral," spoke Ampelius "primary vox is online. Ready on your command."

"Thank you Rear Admiral." Nodded Priscus signaling Ampelius. "This is Admiral Priscus Michel of _Triton's Web. _Prep all reverse thrusters, arm all forward cannons and engage upon my command. Reversing will rob the enemy of their speed and hopefully give us a chance."

"Priscus I beg of you stop this." Said Thracius worriedly. "This is suicide!"

"I've heard enough from you Thracius." Barked Priscus.

"1,500km and closing."

"Rear Admiral!" shouted Thracius "Disengage rear thrusters, punch the forward thrusters now before this lunatic gets us all killed."

"Disregard those orders Ampelius." Interjected Priscus "Are you daft? Need I remind you who the superior officer is here?"

"No," growled Thracius "but I could be reminded who the superior mind is."

"1,250km and closing"

"Get this man off my bridge!" shouted Priscus, "Connect me back to the Vox Rear Admiral."

"Aye, Admiral." Replied Ampelius.

Two large combat servitors marched up to Thracius, clutching his forearms with their mighty power claws.

"Get your bloody hands off of me!" Thracius shouted with venom, twisting and throwing one servitor to the ground, his servo-arm smashing into its skull and shattering it into fragments of gore and metal. Free of its grasp, Thracius twisted upward and slammed his palm into the jaw of the still living servitor snapping the vertebrae and ligaments in its neck killing it instantly.

"All systems check across the board." Shouted Priscus over the vox.

"_Void's Cry_, standing by." Spoke the elegant pilot.

"_Impregnable_, standing by." Spoke the Death Korp. Captain.

"_Independence_, ready and standing by." Replied the old and gruff captain.

"_Emperor's Child_, standing by." Repeated the soft female voice of the captain.

"_Grim Singer_, standing by." Spoke Admiral Marcellus "I hope you damned well know what you're doing Novamarine."

"As do I." replied Priscus under his breath.

"750 and closing, Admiral!"

Thracius had finally freed himself of the claws of his slain captors. With tenacity and vengeance in his step, he unsheathed his power axe and leapt at his Admiral.

"Fire everything!" shouted Admiral Priscus as his former friend charged at him, and the bridge erupted with mutinous gunfire.

**Billions of squid-like** spores surged toward the slowly reversing ships. Their speed greatly outmatching any star fighter the Imperium could produce simply by being jettisoned from their womb with violent force. Like the sperm cells attempting to create life, they swarmed at their large target; their only reason for existence was to protect very precious cargo that lay within the spore pod.

With only a few hundred kilometers left until they've breached the wall of titanic ships that guarded Skyfall. But as the ships reeled back in terror, one belched a las beam that obliterated a dozen spores and struck a spore pod, annihilating it in a miasma of fiery ooze. Before they could even react hundreds of las beams and massive shells pounded into the spores causing chain explosions amongst one another reducing them to half their number in an instant. Several more beams shot and struck the pods, reducing it and its valuable DNA cargo to ribbons.

In attempt to save the remaining pods, the spores surrounded their packages in tight groups in hopes that their petty sacrifice will absorb most of the human fire. As planned, scores of the amorphous creatures died in vain attempt to protect the pods as bolts and las beams disintegrated their insignificant bodies with ease.

One spore cluster deviated into one of the smaller Imperial escort vessels. The spores detonated on impact, penetrating all of its Void Shields with enough force to shift the vessel upward. The spore pod proceeded to crash into the Imperial Escort ship and cause massive chain reactions within the ship's damaged reactor. The small, yet vital, vessel erupted in a ball of blue plasma utterly destroying the ship and its spore assailant.

Thousands of other spores without a pod to escort went off course and into the nearest ship to them and exploding with high concentrated force. The Imperial vessels continued to reel back as the spores struck vital relays, weapon turrets, penetrated hulls, and in some cases managed to find their way into hanger bays where they detonated damaging or disabling fighter ships and slaying scores of crewmen in gaseous or acidic explosions.

With the Imperial ships distracted by the squid-like suicide bombers, three pods and their escorts managed to survive the onslaught of the blockade and began entry into Skyfall's atmosphere. The flames of reentry decimated the remaining spores leaving only the pods to survive. As they finally entered the thermosphere, the pods automatically began sensing the atmosphere, gathering up information through massive nostril like holes to create the perfect creature for fighting in this kind of atmosphere; one that adapts.

The pods separated as the ground grew closer; soon they were not even within visible range of each other. Mere kilometers from crashing down to earth for the first time, the creatures inside each pod moved and prepared for its violent and abrupt birth.

**Priscus's bolt pistol** shot into the arm of his former friend, penetrating through his shoulder pad and barely grazing his flesh, exactly what Priscus wanted. A brief moment of panic filled Thracius forcing his choleric charge to a halt. Before Thracius fully recovered from the recoil, the bolt round detonated in his shoulder, cleaving his arm violently off his body and sending him crashing to the floor, screaming in pain.

"I said get him off my bridge!" yelled Priscus, but before anyone could do as he commanded, the ship lurched knocking all those not sitting to the ground, with the exception of the Astartes, their enhanced inner ear function giving them enough balance to bare such an impact. However even the Astartes lost their grip as the ship lurched again and warning klaxons fired all around and a gruesome red light washed over the entire bridge.

"Man positions!" shouted Priscus, the only one standing thanks to his tight hold on his command chair. He quickly spun it around and sat in it, bringing up the vox control while many others were barely recovering. "Ampelius, connect to primary vox link."

"Aye, Admiral." Grumbled the Rear Admiral barely regaining his footing.

"This is Admiral Michel of _Triton's Web_. All units engage forward thrusters to maximum or else the planet's gravitational pull will take us in."

Priscus spared a glance at his old friend, who lay armless on the ground, a stump of meat where his left arm should be. He let out a sigh of contempt before turning to his own crew.

"Engage forward thrusters to maximum," He said calmly. "And kill these damned flood lights."

A collective "Aye, my lord." Responded. Priscus almost let himself relax when he noticed, and felt, the ship still, slowly, pulling backward.

"Forward thrusters at maximum." He repeated.

"They are Admiral," a voice spoke out.

"Ampelius, connect my vox signal to the Magos." He said with worry in his voice. "We're not out of the woods yet." He said to no one in particular.

"You've killed us all, fool." Spat Thracius attempting to stand in the pool of his own blood. His advanced physiology allowed his shoulder to already clot.

"Magos Aurel," Priscus spoke into his vox bead while giving Thracius a deathly stare "Status report."

"Poor, my lord. We've taken heavy damage and multiple casualties." Replied the techpriest before taking a long mechanical inhale.

"How badly damaged are the rear engines?"

"I'd say," the Magos breathed heavily again "They are in need of some healing, but they're nothing a few days of hard work and prayer couldn't fix."

Priscus's blue and bone gauntlets clasped over his head in resentment. How could I have been so reckless, he thought. Then suddenly and idea struck him.

"Magos," the Admiral said springing up quickly. "Do you remember how we escaped the Eldar Pirates back in the Crux system?"

"Aye, my lord." He wheezed "We placed several Melta charges in the damaged reactor core and… no. No we're not. Not again."

"Yes we are Magos. Its either that or we all personally assure the death of millions." Replied Priscus.

"We lost fifteen men and a half dozen servitors last time. There's no telling what that will do with a damaged stern."

"If we don't Aurel we're _all_ going to die, guaranteed." Priscus replied with a grim tone. "How long do you need to properly initiate this procedure?"

"Comfortably? About a half hour."

"How long until we're fully at the mercy of the gravitational pull, Ampelius?" said Priscus turning to his Rear Admiral.

"Estimated: 12 minutes and 34 seconds Admiral." Replied Ampelius with worry.

"How about uncomfortably, Magos?" said Priscus through the vox.

"Maybe a quarter hour?" replied the wheezing Techpriest.

"Make it ten minutes." Spoke Priscus, the threat of annihilation evident in his vocal tension, "And pray that the Emperor is watching us."

"Damn you, Michel!" shouted Aurel with a loud wheeze. He turned on his pulpit to view the gothic garden of ancient machines that engulfed the majority of the rear quarters of the ship. Aurel turned a dial on his breastplate, tuning the vox built into his throat to frequency of all workers of the engine rooms followed, and spoke with determination.

"Brothers and sisters of the Omnissiah," he began. "We are currently in great peril, and the survival of this ship and the planet we orbit lies directly within our grasp. We must grab hold and take the Imperium to victory again. All non-servitor personnel report to your nearest armory and equip yourself with as many Melta charges as you can carry. Mechrites Atellus and Xantion, escort a group of Industrial Servitors to reactor room Zeta 2, disable and disconnect it. Then, all personnel, report to rear thruster Stigma Phi and await further instruction. Make haste, and may the machine-god be with you."

With silence and determination, the servants of the machine-god did as they were told as if there was nothing wrong at all. Dozens of workers and Tech-priests flooded into the lower arming chambers. They swarmed around prepping Space Marines, the warriors preparing for emergency disembarking if things go awry. Their personal lockers were invaded by the personnel and their krak and Melta charges were robbed from them. A servitor grabbed a stock marine's Melta bombs and was met with some heavy resistance.

"Damn you, you little runt, that's mine!" The servitor ignored the marine "Hey! I'm talking to you!"

With anger the marine punched the servitor crushing its skull and letting the mindless cyborg die with out mercy.

"Pesky thief." Spat the warrior.

"Brother Terentius," spoke a calm voice approaching the machine's corpse. He was a tall, tan man, his body was limber for a marine and his face was relatively aged, an unusual trait for a marine as well. He was completely bald, save for his scruffy stubble. "That drone was no thief, it was merely following protocol. And your choleric outburst is not the behavior of the Emperor's Finest, you know that too well Terentius."

"Aye, Sergeant Appius." Said Terentius with his head held low, scolded by his commander.

"Brothers, remember, these weapons are property of the Emperor's military, if they need be confiscated then you shall forfeit them, understood?" boomed the tall sage to his squad.

"Aye Sergeant." Relayed the warriors.

"Prepare yourselves brothers, we could be making planet fall much earlier than predicted." Spoke Appius

As the valiant warrior spoke more words of righteousness to his battle-brothers, servitors and engine bay personnel collected packs full of remote detonated Melta bombs along with krak grenades, stripped missile fragments, and highly devastating demolition charges.

Within the next few moments the squad had been fully armed, clad in bone and blue ceramite, and prepared for war. Appius lead his men through the underbelly of the ship, using the closest access points, portals and catwalks to make it to the drop pods in the next few minutes. The Novamarines and Skyfall could not afford to lose any of their ground-based fighting power, chiefly the Adeptus Astartes. Terentius spared a glance down the catwalk; meters below, what looked like hundreds of techpriests, servitors and ratings clambered about the ships interior in a calm orderly manner, each carrying enough explosives to punch a clean hole through any given Imperial Fortress. Admiral Michel had always been a rather unorthodox, to say the least, Commander but his results were never less than satisfactory. The chapter master would not have given him the keys to the Novamarines' most prestigious war-vessel if he was not trust worthy. Despite the suicidal nature of this specific maneuver, Terentius had not lost faith in his commanding officer: yet he was not entirely heartbroken to be high priority for evacuation.

"Terentius!" shouted Appius behind helm of blue and bone with an expression as grim as his tone, "This is no time for day dreaming, boy."

"Aye, Sergeant. Apologies Sergeant." Stammered Terentius, hefting his massive plasma cannon and marching quickly to catch up with the rest of his squad.

Terentius was young and naive but a skilled warrior. He climbed the ranks faster than any other soldier in his company's history. Though his tactical prowess and skill with plasma weaponry were high, his maturity was obviously lacking, something Appius feared would end him or worse, end another.

Squad Appius marched above the engines and turbines of the lower starboard wing. Beneath them were dozens if not hundreds of cybernetic drones, techpriests, and engineers of various classes, acting almost unknowingly of their impending doom. The Mechanicus created the perfect workers, ones that show little to no fear or emotion in times of crisis. They were emotionless and dead, yet brilliant people. This, however, worthy sacrifice to advance the works of both the Emperor and their beloved Machine-god.

The two young Mechrites, Xantion and Atellus arrived briefly after the horde of workers and drones carrying thousands of Adeptus Astartes and Imperial Navy explosives. These aspiring Techpriest walked carefully along side their massive servitor companion. Long, tubular potentia coils linked the two to the servitor mentally and physically, allowing them to control his massive steel limbs that held precious cargo as if it were their own.

Aurel turned on his levitating chair, his scraggly robotic limbs guiding several servitors and techpriests to shut off and on primary valves to stop the flow of fuel to the thruster they all stand before. With these fuel lines shut they can easily fill the damaged thruster with the explosives ejecting them into space enough for them to "safely" detonate behind the ship. If Michel's tactic was not simply luck the first time, then the force of the colossal blast will push the ship far enough out of Skyfall's atmosphere to successfully escape being dragged down to the planet below. Aurel wish he could say he had doubts about this procedure; however there was no time for questioning a tactic in a do-or-die situation such as now.

The Magos stepped from his chair, four long, spindly, mechanical legs extended from beneath his long crimson robe. Bracing himself on his long, cog-shaped halberd, the master Techpriest descended from the catwalk to the crowd below, sparing a glance at his chrono as he did so. He was behind schedule. If this dangerous feat was to be successful he'd have to cut a few corners, ones that only the machine god could forgive him of.

He held his hands against the large metal door that separated the chamber from the thruster. With a nod to his subordinates he began quickly chanting a psalm only those capable of discerning binary chatter could interpret. To unmodified ears, the psalm was nothing more than a repetition of bothersome and noxious screeching and wailing, like a rat being electrocuted by an ancient computer. Several of the close rating had to cover their ears to stop the pain or the blood from leaking, for the others; they held their heads in quiet prayer.

After several, long, painstaking seconds steam released from a slim crack in the door's center. A gust of wind seemed to blow from the inside of the creaking ship, and out into the former vacuum within the turbine. A few moments of this gale force gust passed the Magos standing affront of the door, eyes shut and gripping his stave. Soon, the bay was quiet again and the doors completed their opening ritual.

"Quickly my children." Said the sickly Magos, his shrill voice carried by his external vox throughout the chamber, "Place the explosives in the engine's center with haste and clear the chamber and prepare for violent impact."

With little prompting the workers, engineers and drones rushed into the chamber in organized chaos. The Magos held his head low, aware of what he was about to do for the sake of an entire world. He saw Xantion and Atellus working their way as fast as their legs could take them into the engine's core. Aurel placed a somber hand on the on Xantion's shoulder, a look of worry across her face. "I am sorry, my child." He murmured continuing on his spidery legs back to his chair.

By the time he had reached his chair Xantion and Atellus had finally made it into the thruster. The Magos looked to his subordinates at the ground level and gave a somber and emotionless nod, with on returned from them as well. In this brief exchange, Aurel observed several of the workers escaping form the thruster; he had convinced himself that those who escaped were more than half. Aurel pressed a button on his chair's arm and flipped several switches. As he did this his Techpriest performed the exact same psalm used to open the engine for maintenance. The door was half shut before most of the occupants of the thruster realized their fate was, quite literally, being sealed. The ratings and techpriests all dropped the explosives and darted the seemingly endless trek to their only window to life and freedom. The servitors were blissfully ignorant of their doom, something many of the other's wished they had. Xantion watched the people stuggle, even her own associate Attelus struggled to undo his nerve-binding potential coil. Xantion did nothing, knowing nothing could be done.

Few escaped the closing door before only a sliver of room between the two chambers was left. One brave rating attempted to slide between the two several meter thick doors, the rest simply prayed or pathetically begged for freedom. The rating became stuck as the doors shut between him. He struggled, his pants ripping and skin being cut deep by the mechanized locks. His arm finally reached the end, his body turning bright red as he screamed curses out of agony. Aurel watched the young lad's fingers touch the air of the ship's interior one last time before the psalm was completed and thousands of tons of psionic pressure closed the door forever. Blood sprayed form the crevice with violent force, drenching the emotionless techpreists as they walked away from the gruesome scene, leaving the severed forearm behind in pool of giblets and blood.

"Damn it Aurel! Status report!" belted the admiral in Aurel's built in vox.

"Completed Admiral." Said the Magos sternly.

With no hesitation, Aurel imediately reopened the damaged thruster, the thousands of kilograms of explosives jettisoned rapidly into the nigh-vacuum of space, taking the unsuspecting and innocent souls trapped inside with them.

**Mere seconds after** launching into space, the timed explosives detonated causing a massive chain reactions with the nearby bombs eventually leading to the destruction of the damaged plasma generator at the center of it all; the collective force from the expanded a kilometer wide, easily catching the massive Space Marine battlebarge in the epic blast. The entirety of the crew of the _Triton's Web _felt the volotile impact, tossing them around the interior quarters of the ship like a child's plaything. Though, for a brief moment, the force of the blast was stronger than Skyfall's gravitational pull, allowing the stressed thrusters enough time to push out of the thin atomosphere and return to its safe, orbital position.

It felt as though the crew gave out a collective sigh of relief at the zero-g's they were slowly beginning to feel disappeared. The bridge of the Web as well as the aft of the ship roared with victorious applause. Michel let loose his breath for a moment before watching as several, much larger Combat Servitors and several Navy Officers dragged away the bloodied traitor, Thracius, from the bridge and to the holding quarters where he would await trial from the Masters of the Chapter. Michel no longer felt triumphant, a trusted friend and first mate had betrayed him; attempted to take his life.

"Are you quite alright my Admiral?" asked Ampelius approaching his admiral.

"Quite fine." Replied Michel, with a faux smile "I suppose in light of recent events you are now Vice Admiral, Ampelius, congratulations."

"Right," now Vice Admiral Ampelius smiled and gave a grateful nod to his superior.

"I, um, have some business I must attend to in the aft. Keep the bridge for me Vice Admiral." Michel turned and exited the bridge, clenching his fists and grinding his teeth in frustration and anger. Thracius was not known for his subordination, and always felt, stubornly, he was the wiseset in the room. But to attack Michel, over a disagreement of his orders? It was as if he was planning this for some time, and was just waiting for a time to strike.

Michel punched the sheet metal walls of the corridor where he now stood, his powered gauntlet easily tearing and denting the metal. The Admiral stood there somber, and angry, feeling not only betrayed but foolish. What stuck to his mind the most, is if a traitor so easily slipped through his ranks already, how many more might there be?

**Varlogo Ashsinger's mount** slowed to calm trot as he rode through the fiery, hellish encampment. All around him he felt the strong influence of the dark gods, corrupting the mining settlement that once belonged to the Imperium of Man. What remained of the Imperial influence here was little more than a parody of its former self. Corpses of the workers and security strung across the buildings of the encampment, their innards spreading across the perimeter of the buildings from which the hung; a warped, twisted decoration celebrating the triumph and power of Chaos. Servitors that worked here have been re-purposed and outfitted with vile, daemon-possessed mechanical limbs. Tents fashioned from flesh and bone littered the facility, each home to up to five armor clad monsters that could only technically be labeled "Space Marine".

Ashsinger rode past a series of gaudy, elaborate tents. Horrific, nausiating music could be heard from the center of this section of the camp. Such noise could only be produced from the instruments the Slaaneshii worshipers so hilariously called weapons. Rynau hissed and the flat of the ax-blade seemed to warp into frightening, hateful faces. Ashsinger placed his hand on the grip of the ax up by his shoulder, hushing it as a mother would an upset child. Rynau could hardly stand the presence of Slaanesh worshipers but went bloodthirsty at the sound of their sonic weaponry.

At long last Ashsinger arrived at camp belonging to his warband, the Knights of Blood. He rode his steed to a large, crudely made metal corral where three dozen other Juggernaughts were nested, eagerly awaiting battle. One of his soldiers, clad in the black and red armor of his warband climbed grabbed the reins from his chieftain and tied the monstrous, daemon-engine steed into the corral. As soon as Ashsinger dismounted the steed went into a frenzy fighting with all its might against the brave soldier who took the reins. Varlogo smiled a bit as he heard the soldier being crushed beneath the might of rampaging brass hooves.

Varlogo passed many tents on his way to the primary facility at the center of the encampment; the massive smokestack acted as a beacon, spewing hot toxic ash into the air. The Khornate chaos lord was met with the respectful gaze of all of his followers, each maintaining their chain-axes, armor, bolters, steeds or bikes for the upcoming slaughter. Though each seemed to honor his presence, none of his black and red Knights dare look him in the eye for fear they may entice his wrath. Ashsinger reveled it the mutual fear of his men, it meant that no one would dare cross him and try to usurp his position as Lord of the Knights of Blood. However unlike Varlogo himself, who beheaded his former master in open combat without armor to prove he was truly worthy to rule.

Two massive metal doors now blocked Varlogo's path to the facility. Both of the massive steel doors bore defiled insignia of the Imperium and Adeptus Mechanicus. With little struggle, Varlogo pushed the doors open, a loud creaking piercing the deafening silence within. Most of the heavy industrial mining equipment had been removed leaving the ground floor of the facility open and shroud in darkness, save for a skylight that lit the very center of the room. Within the spotlight, like a dancer on stage, sat the daemon, a child by physical appearance but her- _its _age far surpassed the collective age of every marine in this camp. The girl-thing looked up with glowing, blood red eyes that only seemed to darken her raven hair and bone white flesh. She sat in a semicircle drawn in a mixture of bone meal and blood. The red paste formed several glyphs in a seemingly random, senseless pattern that scattered all around the semi-circle.

"At long last, I was beginning to believe you had lost your way."" she spoke with a smirk, her eyes traveling to the gruesome bag of severed heads held tightly in Ashsinger's grip "I assume those are tonight's batch."

Ashsinger said nothing as the towering, crimson warrior approached. He tossed the bag at the child, landing a few meters short before landing with a soggy thud. The Knight snorted at the daemon, causing her to melodramatically frown.

"That's not very nice now is it?" pouted the daemon-child, reaching for the bag with a disturbingly long reach. Ashsinger glared down at the daemon with disgust through the eye sockets of his skull helm. He was about to exit when Rynau hissed and vibrated more intensely then it had in ages. Ashsinger gripped his weapon, somewhat calming it as he turned quickly, his black, fur mantle dancing behind him. Two figures clad in the power armor of the renegades entered the room. The one to the right wore the traditional colors of a Thousand Sons' Aspiring Sorcerer. Ashsinger recognized this man as Valerio, the second in command of Samuels. His gauntlets were unreasonably sharp at the fingertips, each knuckle encrusted with a different type of alien, and most likely magical, gem. His body was wrapped in an elegant silk robe that swayed like fluid as he moved. A force sword sit sheathed at his hip, one talon-like hand on the hilt, the other swaying beside him as he marched. His helm was elongated downward and smoothly, with small slits along each side for the rebreather. The almond shaped lenses glow green and appeared to be lined with thick black paint like that of a conceded maiden. His horns, like other members of the Thousand Sons shot straight up, though his were longer, smooth and sharp along the edges. He walked with an arrogance and pride in his step only obtained through millennia of study of dark arts. In the crook of his arm he held an elegantly carved box made of steel, the glyphs on the floor matching those on the box.

The man on the left, too, was all to familiar a face, he'd only heard of this vile monstrosity in legends but the tales were so distinct that no one could possibly mistake this warrior's crooked, ear-to-ear grin for any other than Lucius the Eternal. Lucius stood half a meter taller than Valerio, his height given to him by his mutated legs that take the form of a cloven beast of ancient lore. His armor was black and trimmed in a fleshy pink, like an infected wound, and seemed to show reflections of anguished faces locked in eternal suffering. His power pack was rigged with injectors that pumped powerful combat drugs into his system constantly, leaving the warrior forever in a state of euphoria or ecstasy. His face could strike fear into the bold and drive the weak minded mad, riddled with scars and stitches like and old doll hastily put back together. His ominous smile was unnaturally wide and filled with rows of sharp teeth like that of an cannibalistic predator. His eyes met Ashsinger's, the two star-crossed enemies by religion alone. The hatred flowed between the two rivals for seemingly endless moments, when in reality it was mere seconds. The two denizens of the dark gods passed Ashsinger, Lucius refusing to break eye contact with Ashsinger, or break his sinister grin.

"I assume we are prepared?" asked Valerio to the daemon-child.

"Indeed, and not a moment too soon." She said pointing at the sky through the skylight. "The stars are almost out of our favor. We must make haste."

Valerio said nothing, but instead removed his blade and unhinged his elaborate helm, revealing a bald, aged face of a soldier who lived long past his time. Half dozen wires attached themselves to Valerio's skull, undoubtedly all for use of psychic powers. He placed the box in the center of the semi-circle and twisted a few nobs on the short ends. the box opened to reveal an unearthly blue light. What was causing it, Valogo could not see. Within a few moments, the two began placing the severed, rotting heads on each of the nine glyphs. The two then took a meditative stance and began chanting.

"And what brings you here, berserker?" spoke Lucius, his voice dripping with sadism. "I thought your kind despised this kind of activity. That is anything that doesn't involve murder."

"I brought the skulls." Snapped Ashsinger finally removing his hand from the grip of his axe. "Without me this ritual would not happen."

Lucius scoffed and returned his gaze to the ritual. "If that makes you feel better about being errand boy, say whatever must be said."

Ashsinger boiled with fury and swung his black fist at the leader of the Emperor's Children aiming to crush his skull in a single blow. His hand was stopped by Lucius' own, stopping the blow with minimal resistance. With a bellowing laugh, a red vine seemed to emerge from Lucius' armor and wrap around Varlogo's arm, ensnaring him, despite his unfeasible strength. Just as Varlogo tried to struggle free and retrieve Rynau he noticed the gleam of Lucius' stainless rapier positioned at his abdomen. Lucius chuckled, slowly pulling Varlogo into the blade, penetrating his armor with ease.

"ENOUGH!" barked the daemon with two voices, one a child's and one not of this realm, the whites of her eyes turned red as a result of her anger "I will end both of you and cast your souls into the most hellish reaches of the warp if you do not cease your childish behavior during my ritual!"

Lucius' tendril released its grip on Varlogo and sheathed his blade, more out of respect for the dark arts than fear of the daemon. Varlogo cracked his neck and snorted, turning to the semicircle as the daemon and Valerio returned to chanting the chaotic psalm in tandem.

After a few moments of chanting a spectral breeze filled the massive room chilling the space marines within despite the extreme conditioning of their power armor. Seconds later an ethereal light danced between one severed head to the next. Ashsinger now saw the significance of the placement: they formed a serpentine shape, symbol of Tzeentch. The semi-circle began growing brightly, before firing a powerful beam of light into the night sky from the steel box and off into the void, forcing Lucius and Ashsinger to shield their eyes. Valerio and the daemon child seemed too entranced to be effected, still quietly chanting the psalm. Bizarre, unnatural noises filled the room, voices coming from all angles. Ashsinger spared a glance up at the skylight. As he stared blankly into the unfiltered warp Ashsinger felt something he'd not felt since he was a mere child: fear.


	3. III - Vangaurd

III

Vanguard

**In the far** north of Skyfall, where the snow capped, rocky peaks meet the desert below; a group of refugees from one of the North Pole's drilling facilities made their way toward the capital city of Castle Rock. It is less than three days before the wretched xenos invaders are estimated to make planet fall. These poor Skyfall civilians would be the first to die if they had not evacuated to the capital where shelters are being constructed day and night to assure each one of Skyfall's people stay safe during the impending cataclysm.

General Tahmid had ordered directly that each town that could not be air lifted to the capital or could not make it to the mag-trains before they were shut down be personally escorted by a full squad of PDF. Commissar Anwar felt this was a waste of resources and only allowed a selection of five conscripts be the escort. Of course Tahmid need not be aware of this change of his orders.

These poorly trained soldiers, clad in the traditional brown and black of the Skyfall PDF, marched several paces ahead of the hundred or so civilians behind them, leading them along the treacherous path through the mountains. One of the conscripts insisted that this way was a shortcut to the mag-train line, cutting a day from their travel time. The citizens were in no position to argue making up lost time, especially having to haul their personal belongings with very primitive vehicles and carts.

The snow fell thicker and the air grew thinner the further the refugees rose. The wind blew strong and its cold bite did nothing but slow their expedition, but still they marched on. However, they were not alone. They were too preoccupied fighting the freezing weather to notice a shadow without a body, lurking around every corner and assessing the right method of attack.

The shade watched as they grew closer to its point of origin, the stench of after-birth filling the air with its noxious gasses. Several of the refugees broke out into violent coughing fits as the toxins traveled down wind. Some began fainting or vomiting the closer they drew. Curious to see how they would react; the shade followed them for some while longer, until they finally found it. The conscripts ordered the refugees to stand back while they equipped their rifles and put on their rebreathers getting closer to the crater. They saw an empty embryonic sac that dripped with viscous fluid and vented potent pheromones into the atmosphere of Skyfall. While all five of the armed members of the group inspected the alien pod, the shade saw its window, and sprung its attack, starting with the weakest first, the elderly, and the young. The conscripts heard the screaming, charged their las guns and ran into battle to see nothing but flying limbs and bloodied snow. Some of the refugees tried to run from the specter as it mutilated and slaughtered their kin, but few escaped its fey quickness. The conscripts fired blindly but each shot was to no avail, every missed shot was another two civilians shredded apart.

From the beginning of the slaughter until the last civilian fell, no more than two full minutes had passed. Only one conscript remained, soaked in the blood and gore of those he swore to protect. The conscript desperately clawed for his rifle but his hand was crushed by seemingly the air itself. Grasping his broken hand in agony, the specter shed its chameleonic guise. The conscript saw the specter for what it really was: sheer horror given flesh. Six piercing blue eyes stared into him for several long seconds, before it vanished yet again before him and left the wounded soldier alone in an ocean gore and snow.

**Ashok Tahmid took** in several long moments to absorb the conscript's report, taking quick continuous puffs of his local Skyfall cigar. His dark, constrictive office filled with smoke as he continually re-read the parchment. Anwar calmly stood beside the conscript whose hand was in a gel cast awaiting further medical attention. The conscript had said very little since he entered his commander's office, only when spoken too, and even then very broken and quiet. Anwar coughed a bit and waved a gloved hand in front of his pallid face trying to clear the air around him.

"I thank you for bringing this to my attention as soon as you arrived, Private Sa'di." Spoke Tahmid, putting his cigar in his ashtray and stroking his graying beard. "We no longer require any more of your services. Until further notice you are relieved of duty."

"Th-thank you commander." The conscript named Sa'di stumbled a bit getting up and exiting the room.

"Do you think that was really a wise idea?" said Anwar sternly as soon as the door had shut.

"Boy has a broken hand and PTSD he'll be killed on the battlefield in minutes or worse get someone else killed." Argued Tahmid rubbing his temples in hopes to relieve some of the stress. "What else would you have me do?"

"I have no care about his efficiency in combat, Commander." Replied the albino man, his red eyes hidden behind dark, thin sun-shades. "He knows devastating news about the enemy and you released him into the public where he can cause untold amounts of panic."

"So what? You want me to take him out behind the office and put a plasma shot through his head?" laughed Tahmid standing and crossing to Anwar. Anwar's face did not change from its stoic, unfeeling expression. Tahmid frowned and let his shoulders drop. "Anwar you have to be fucking kidding me."

"We do what's necessary for the welfare of the population, Commander." He replied simply. "And you so often forget the power you hold with that title, Ashok."

"And sometimes you forget that those aren't just Emperor-damned numbers out there, they're damn people!" Tahmid raged driving his index and middle finger into Anwar's Aquila pendant. "Look at that symbol next time you think about rash actions like that."

Ashok stormed out, slamming the door behind him. Anwar still showing no hint of emotion turned on his heel and followed the commander out. Each going their own way across the base carved deep into the face of Castle Rock during the Age of Apostasy. The base was several hundred kilometers up the mountain face and several kilometers deep, meant for housing most of the Planetary Defense Force's aircraft, though normally quite dormant, the past few weeks have seen this mountain fortress bustling with activity, as well as many new faces and vehicles being prepped for the upcoming battle, now no more than a day away.

Several figures stood out amongst the crowds of black and brown PDF soldiers. Ten soldiers standing over three meters tall and adorning the blue and bone armor of the Novamarines. Tahmid had never been of high enough rank in the past to directly work with members of the Adeptus Astartes, and despite the grim nature of them being here, Tahmid felt a bit of excitement of having not one but _two_ chapters of the Adeptus Astartes fighting for his home world. Though hearing of the grim event up north, he prayed they would be enough.

**The holding quarters** of the _Triton's Web_ were uncomfortably small for an Adeptus Astartes, no doubt purposefully so. Thracius sat on his metal cot, with a few centimeter thick blanket they call a mattress, surrounded by metal walls connected to metal floors and caressing his now metal stump. One would think Thracius' closeness to metal and machines would prepare him for something like this, though ironically he's never wanted to be more further from the metal that imprisons him. A thick sheet of impenetrable polymer is his only window to the dark, cramped corridor that leads to his freedom. Had he still had his servo-arm or at least his power armor he might be able to break through this polymer or at least pry it open. The crew of the _Web_ was far wiser than that however and stripped Thracius of every space marines' only identity: their armor and weapons.

Thracius felt the port on his shoulder where a bionic limb will go, if he's not executed for treason. He spent the last two days in surgery; Michel was at least kind enough to allow the Magos Aurel to give his wound a proper Mechanicus repair. After that however, he awoke in his current cell, stripped down to his sparring shirt and pants and nothing else. Thracius' dark skinned hand glided to the port in his back where his beloved servo arm was attached. The removal process still left him aching. Thracius caught a reflection of himself in the polished metal floor, the bionic eye that takes up the upper right corner of his head glowing red, a contrast from the deep blue eye on his left side. His bald, dark, chiseled head seemed to be formed in a permanent scowl. How appropriate for a Techmarine to be plagued with anger issues. He is not only a space marine but a child of Mars, how a soldier of his caliber could be the victim of temperament he will never know. All Thracius could think about was how he belonged where he was, and how he no longer deserved the title Space Marine.

"How's the bionic port taking?" a mechanical, gravely voice spoke, muffled through the polymer barrier. Thracius looked up to see Magos Aurel standing on his strange, spindly legs and holding his long Mechanicus halberd.

"Its taking." Said Thracius with his scowl forming a slight smile before reverting back to a scowl.

"Excellent news, Vice Admiral."

"No need for formalities anymore, Aurel. In case you haven't heard I've been stripped of my rank." Returned Thracius, regret and anger heavy in his words. "I'm hardly even one of the Emperor's Finest."

"If it makes you feel any better I sympathize with you Thracius." Spoke the machine-man, a hint of emotion lacing his words.

"I believe you mean empathize."

"I know what I said." Interrupted Aurel before Thracius could even finish speaking.

"What could you possibly know about my situation?" Thracius said with a mixture of offense and genuine curiosity.

"I know that neither of us belongs in the position we hold. Or in present company's sake: held."

"What do you mean?" said Thracius puzzled

"We have both done things that go against both our own moral judgment and the moral code that has been laid before us to follow. Not two days ago I personally let dozens of my subordinates die by my own hand to follow an order."

"That sort of thing happens Aurel, I attacked Priscus. Do you not understand the gravity of that?"

"I do understand, my friend. And no, it does not happen, not as often as it happens to me."

Thracius' one human eyes squinted at the Techpriest. Despite the Magos' stalwart, emotionless demeanor, Thracius sensed a darker undertone to this man.

"What I think makes it worse," He began in his eerie monotone "I have no regrets about it. Not for long that is. Soon after each atrocity has been performed I feel hardly any recognizable guilt before it completely drifts from my mind, as if those whom were unwillingly sacrificed never existed at all. I know we of the Adeptus Mechanicus are not known for compassion or emotion but I doubt other Magos are as cold and empty as I. In fact it makes me wonder how much I belong in service to the Imperium at all."

Thracius sprung up and charged at the window staring down at the wry machine-man with spite. "Those are words of heresy!" barked Thracius.

"Says the man imprisoned for violent treason." Replied Aurel, completely unimpressed with his former Vice Admiral's outburst. "There is a reason I tell you all this. Think to yourself, Thracius. Think deep and think hard. I'm sure you'll find that you and I are no more members of Imperial society than the xenos that barrel toward us as we speak."

With those last stinging words of revelation, Aurel clamored down the corridor on his mechanical spider limbs, leaving Thracius to his somber thoughts.

**The streets of** Castle Rock were never more anarchic than they were now. The bustling hive city hidden within the hollow mountain swarmed with triple its already over-bearing population. Shelters built not twenty-four hours ago had already been filled over maximum capacity with refugees from all over Skyfall. Local law enforcers struggled around the clock to keep the populace under control and calm, in most situations they were all but failing. Riots in the streets caused by the petrified citizens and madness in the markets where the citizens fought for what little supplies left the city could muster. Suicide and murder was never an issue more than it was now. Be it by careless neglect for one another or the low rung of society showing their truest colors. Nobel houses were stormed with starving people as the Ministorium was swarmed by protesting refugees forced to live in the streets.

Though among the chaos, one figure remained as calm and level headed as ever. The albino Commissar known as Anwar walked through the madness unhindered in his objective to reach a specific hab block. Dignity in his posture and a rigid sense of duty in his step, the tall, lithe Commissar pressed on through the anarchy.

After an hour or so of walking, Anwar finally reached his destination. The hab block was a tall, twenty story complex filled to the brim with friends and family of its occupants. Only one individual of these many unfortunate souls was in his mind. Anwar entered the lobby area, cots and sleeping bags of refugees litter the floor leaving only a small pathway to the front desk. With his hands held snuggly behind his back, Anwar approached the man behind the counter. The elderly gentleman's skin was not as tan and his hair was more brown than black, unlike most citizens of Skyfall, no doubt an effect of being born and raised in an underground HiveCity.

"I'm here to see Private Sa'di." Spoke Anwar in his best Low Gothic; even still his proper, upper-crust upbringing evident in his accent.

The old man merely looked up at the intimidating, red-eyed commissar and nodded in fear and respect. "5th floor, room 506." He stammered.

"Many thanks." Replied the strict officer, nodding and grimacing, coming off more off-putting than pleasant as he turned to the elevatus and began his ascent to meet with the Conscript.

The small cubical was dimly lit by a single glo-orb in the ceiling and was coupled with an obnoxious symphony of droning music. The metal box was littered with posters about routine safety during an interplanetary invasion and how to deal with specific xenos threats, as well as astonishing propaganda encouraging the young men and women of Skyfall to join the ranks of the PDF in their time of need. All of it was rubbish and pathetic, bold lies. Though judging from the rush of recruits, the civilians were easily swayed and impressionable.

At last the doors opened and revealed, yet again a dimly lit hallway to the 5th floor residencies. A duo of cleaning servitors droned up and down the noisy hallway meticulously making up for lack of respect the new temporary occupants have for their haven. Anwar pushed past a servitor and turned to see the embossed numbers "506". Anwar gave several rapid and harsh knocks at the private's door before standing yet again, dignified, with his hands behind his back. The door swung open slowly revealing a disheveled and still wounded Private Sa'di wearing common street clothing of Skyfall Hive civilians.

"Oh, Commissar Anwar," he stumbled quickly giving the sign of the Aquila across his chest with some difficulty due to his broken hand "I wasn't expecting you, not that I'm ungrateful."

"No need to be so formal Sa'di," replied Anwar with yet another unsettling grimace in attempt to comfort the soldier. "May I enter?"

"Oh but of course!" he said opening the door all the way and allowing the Commissar access to the small, cluttered flat, closing the door behind him. "Like I said I wasn't expecting company or I would have done some cleaning."

"Again no need to bother, I won't take long." Anwar slowly marched through the apartment, still rigid and distinguished as he observed the uncouth living conditions of the Private.

"If you don't mind me asking," began Sa'di scratching his head nervously "Why did you meet me here instead of having me meet you at the base?"

"Well Sa'di," He said turning to Sa'di with sincerity and yet another unsettling smile "I wanted to informally thank you for your services to the Imperium. To survive such an onslaught from a xenos enemy and formally report immediately to your commander is admirable for someone of your age and rank."

"Thank you very much Commissar," said Sa'di with a grateful bow "I'm honored to hear that from someone as prestigious as you."

"You're quite welcome, Private." Replied Anwar, his eerie smile fading "That being said I want you to be aware of the severity of what you know. It is extremely confidential information, lad. We can't have anyone know of what happened on that peak but you, Commander Tahmid and me. Am I understood?"

Sa'di paused, a bit taken aback by his commissar's tone of severity.

"Oh, I'd never dream of revealing such information until it's disclosed, lord." Stammered Sa'di

"Glad we're on the same page, lad." Said Anwar with one last disturbing smile and reaching out his left hand in a formal gesture, the other still firmly behind his back "I suppose I must be off then, much to do in preparation and all."

"Right, of course, lord." Without hesitation the Private reached out with his own, working, left hand in glee and respect. As soon as the two embraced hands Anwar pulled Sa'di close to his body and withdrew his compact bolt pistol with his free hand and fired two rounds into the Conscript's chest, the mighty, explosive rounds easily exiting through his back and detonating against the wall in a violent, bloody display. Blood leaked from Sa'di's mouth, his eyes wide in shock as his heart slowly stopped beating from the grievous wounds.

The young man fell limp in Anwar's arms, and the commissar released him to the ground where he lay lifeless, bleeding from the gaping holes in his torso. Still as staunch as ever, Anwar pulled a handkerchief from his coat pocket and wiped the splatter of blood from his cheek and outer coat.

"No offense, lad," coldly spoke Anwar to the corpse "Just business."

Anwar made his way calmly out of the flat and into the hall where the servitors had made it closer to the elevatus. Several occupants poked their heads out of their doors to see two splintering holes in the walls of apartment 506. They quickly withdrew when they saw the pale man in a Commissar's uniform. With his hands firmly behind his back Anwar passed the servitors on his way to the elevatus, turning only momentarily to the last one.

"You might want to avoid 506," he said "He asked not to be disturbed."

**Admiral Priscus Michel** stormed out of the elevatus, passing the scrambling navy officers and Mechanicus personnel as he barged his way toward the bridge. His bone and blue boots clanking heavily against the metal floor as his stride picked up from a fast walk to a jog. As he crossed a four-way corridor, newly appointed Vice Admiral Ampelius joined his side, still wearing the grim, blood-red helm in honor of his service to Adeptus Mechanicus.

"How long ago did we receive initial contact?" demanded Priscus, noticing his first mate out of his peripheral.

"No more than one hour ago, my Admiral." Began Ampelius keeping pace with his superior "The _Impregnable's_ long range auspex picked up a pack of close knit energy signatures late yesterday. They came into visual range just a few hours ago."

"Is there a reason I was kept in the dark on all this Vice Admiral?" growled Priscus

"None that I am aware of Admiral." Coughed Ampelius, grateful his embarrassment was hidden behind his mask.

After a few brief moments of silence the two officers arrived at the helm, barging through the large steel bulkheads before they could completely open.

"Admirals on deck!" spoke the young woman, Alcyone, now appointed Rear Admiral.

"Rear Admiral, Status report." Demanded Michel sitting in his command chair while Ampelius charged to the lower level of the deck, barking orders that pertain to his duties.

"One hour ago the visual on the Tyranid fleet came into clear range, our visuals show their vessels fanning out into some sort of pincer attack." Rattled off the brunette human.

"Bring it up on the view screen." Barked Michel. He clasped a hand over his mouth as he could now clearly see the horrific fleet approaching. At the center sat a massive fleshy abomination, dwarfing the strike cruiser they sit in by well more than double. The dark blue fleshy underbelly of the flag ship is contrasted with a massive dark carapace on its top half that whose edges appear bright turquoise in the Skyfall sun. Around it swarmed half a dozen ships of similar colors, the size of any Imperial escort class ship. The majority of its size being three, several kilometer long talons made of pure bone, used for shredding ships apart in close quarters. Around the entire fleet, innumerable squid-like spores, quadruple the size of the ones they encountered days earlier. A dozen or more, thin, dark blue organisms circled the fleet: fast manta-ray creatures the size of city blocks with massive, powerful beaks and scores of bright blue eyes.

"When's our firing window?" spoke Michel finally past the fingers of his bone gauntlet.

"T-minus 13 minutes and counting, my lord." Spoke Ampelius taking his position beside Michel.

"Alcyone," began Michel his brain moving at a hyper-drive pace. "Connect to all vessels and tell them fire at all secondary vessels in 13 minutes. Shoot to kill and don't stop firing until every enemy vessel is destroyed."

"Aye, my lord." Replied Alcyone quickly connecting to the primary vox relay.

"As for us, Admiral? What would you have us do?" asked Ampelius with dignity.

"Turn the ship so our starboard batteries are targeting the flagship." Spoke Michel with determination "Once in position, send that bastard to hell in as many pieces as possible."

"Aye my lord." Responded the crew in unison.

As the terrifying Tyranid fleet closed in, all weapons of the Imperial fleet turned to face them like a knight of yore facing a terrifying dragon. The monsters that approached reacted almost immediately to this threat, sensing the movement and energy being charged up in the weapons. Almost instantaneously after Michel had relayed his orders, the thousand of spores formed a wall of flesh thousands of meters high and kilometers wide to prevent the any damage from the initial onslaught of fire. While the fleets prepared themselves, the Hive Ship began churning and groaning as hundreds of viscous embryonic sacs filled with thousands of fresh alien spawn beasts.

"Starboard batteries prepped and readied, Admiral." Relayed Ampelius.

"Bloody good." Replied Michel "Rear Admiral, connect me to the fleet's signal."

"Yes, my lord. Right away my lord." She said working hastily "Their ears are yours, my lord."

"Brothers. Sisters." Began the Admiral standing as he spoke "This day we fight a foe like no other. We stand at the brink of death and we shall not bow no matter how mighty this beast will roar. The silence of the void will know the thunder of our holy weapons and these emotionless creatures will know fear! For Skyfall! For the Imperium of Man! For the Emperor!"

Filled with the fervor of the God-Emperor the crews of each of the Imperial ships unloaded their weapons into the upcoming monstrosities. In unison the Tyranid retaliated, firing incalculable amounts of embryonic sacs and volleys of colossal, toxic barbs at their assailants. The missiles met in the no-man's-land, scores of premature explosions as biological weapons and ancient military hardware collided. Those that were not met with a rival weapon flew into the enemy fleet. Barbs of solid bone penetrated the mighty hulls of imperial vessels, filling the decks with airborne bio-toxins unlike any other. Missiles and lasbolts struck the bulk of the Tyranid fleet, utterly obliterating their pathetic spore shields in minutes leaving the living ships vulnerable to the next volley.

As the Tyranid trudged onward, closing the gap between them, the mass amounts of fire power from the rival fleets never ceased. The pincer ships fired hundreds of spores with the most potent acids at the Imperials, the mighty void shields of the starships deflecting most all. Several smaller vessels with weaker shields succumbed to the onslaught of acidic bile, easily melting through the hull upon impact sending hundreds of crew members out into the vacuum of the void. The _Triton's Web _and the _Grim Singer_ unleashed devastating warheads into the thick of the Tyranid fleet, each ripping chucks of chitinous flesh from the mighty flag ship.

Only seconds after the ship had been hit, the manta creatures wrapped their bodies around the Hive Ship's wounds as if to protect or cure the wound mid-combat.

The gap between the two fleets grew smaller and smaller with every passing minute and little had been done to chip away at the mass of alien creatures. A pincer ship drew closest to the elegant _Void's Cry _opening its massive talons as it approached, easily powerful enough to sever the ship in half. In a daring move, the _Void's Cry_ turned its port side to the on-coming predator and let loose a payload of volatile warheads that tore asunder the flesh of the alien beast, leaving only fractions of its bone talons remaining. Seeing the _Cry's_ weakness, the hive ship responded and sent several manta creatures in its direction, taking full advantage of its blind spot. As the ship attempted to turn around and face the battle yet again, the manta creatures flew past at impossible speeds, rending huge gashes into the sides of the ship with their titanic beaks. The turrets of the Void's Cry attempted to defend the vessel by gunning down the monsters with its mighty las-cannons. The mantas, however, were too quick and before each turret could lock onto one of the enemies it's had already torn apart the turret. It wasn't long before the _Cry_ was surrounded by the beasts and was literally being torn apart piece by piece. Admiral Michel and the other captains could only watch and listen as the exalted crew was slaughtered by the massive Tyranids.

"_Void's Cry_ do you copy?" shouted Alcyone into her vox, praying for any response "_Void's Cry_ do you copy?"

The meek brunette turned to her Admiral and merely shook her head.

"Emperor be damned." Muttered Michel under his breath. He had no time to mourn the loss of his allies, the flag ship closed in at only 100km away getting closer by the second. The titanic beast now hovered above the _Web_, its vile fleshy underbelly now fully visible to the Admiral and his officers. The mass of dark blue skin wrapped tightly around a quite visible bone structure. It was only in situations like this that Priscus was reminded of the true nature of these fleets; each one an individual organism, birthing other organisms to use as weapons. Las bolts struck at the underbelly of the flag ship, doing little to nothing but scar it with black smoldering pits. As Michel looked up at the abomination of nature a frightening feature revealed itself. A massive blue eye with a black, narrow, slit pupil starring directly at the ship. For a moment, Michel felt this beast looking directly at him, as if somehow, it knew he was watching it.

"Convert all power to starboard guns and rain hellfire at that damn thing." He ordered "That dumb, arrogant son of a bitch is actually showing us its underbelly."

"Admiral," interjected Ampelius "I highly advise against this. Starboard cannons are running low on ammunition as it is and if we fail to destroy it we'll leave ourselves open to an attack with no means of a secondary volley."

"Ampelius," Michel turned to Ampelius with fire in his eyes "I believe if we fail we won't have a second shot."

The _Triton's Web_ tilted backward, preparing for one final volley before the ship-thing was upon them. Just as the batteries were angled and ready to fire, the womb creature had already prepared and launched its attack, as if it predicted their actions. A hundred orifices opened from the surface of the ships underbelly each launching a huge egg-like spore at the ship. Many of the spores fell straight past the _Triton's Web_ though the few that hit home had no resistance, penetrating the hulls and unloading its payload of living weapons.

The ship shook violently, knocking Thracius around his cell despite his enhanced inner ear function. The room flushed red and warning klaxons fired through out the entire ship. Despite being tightly sealed Thracius could hear commotion of the chapter serfs, crew and techpriests scrambling to their stations. Thracius pressed his ear against the polymer barrier, listening carefully to the chaos.

Even with his advanced senses, he could make out little to no conversation. Though of the few words Thracius did here, one stood out the most, and it was all he needed to know how dire the situation was: "boarded."

**Thracius felt a** sudden need to escape slamming his full body weight against the sheet of plastic, refusing to die in a steel box like someone's pet. After several attempts, Thracius finally collapsed against the polymer, getting nothing from his attempts but a sore shoulder. Gunfire could be heard down the corridor followed by the screams of those who fought in vain. Once Tyranid board a ship there's little to nothing these serfs could do to fight it. Though trained well, without the presence of actual Astartes the ship was forfeit.

A clamor brought Thracius out of his solemn state. He stood and turned around seeing several members of the crew running for their lives, no doubt heading toward the lifeboats. Thracius pounded on the barrier as each group ran by screaming as loud as he could to get their attention.

"Hey!" he shouted in desperation, kicking the polymer "Don't leave me in here you bastards!" A few more seconds passed and a familiar face passed by, Magos Aurel. _The coward,_ he thought, _he's evacuating in a time of crisis, when Priscus needs him most._

"Aurel! Get me out of here!" he pleaded, _it's funny_, he thought, _a space marine pleading._ Before Aurel had completely passed he noticed his former colleague and stopped for a moment to gaze at his disposition.

"Aurel, come on old friend." Thracius begged "I know you can get me out of here."

Aurel stood in silence for a moment, observing the sweat running down Thracius' brow. He observed his broken posture and unusual demeanor. If he had anything left of something that resembled a human face he might have smiled at him. There was no point in saving a broken space marine, he was as good as dead anyway.

"Sorry, old friend." Those last two words were thick with sarcasm "We're not true Imperials remember?"

Rage befell Thracius as he spoke. He clenched his fist in uncontrollable anger and began punching his fist at Aurel's face, praying he can crush his skull with his bare hands before he's killed by this xenos monstrosity. Aurel again stood unimpressed, and stood their even longer as if to mock him.

"I'll fucking kill you!" screamed Thracius ripping the cot from his wall and throwing it into the polymer barrier, again, to no avail.

"You will do no such thing, you worthless whelp." Spat Aurel with a reverberating wheeze, possibly his attempt at a laugh "Regardless, I have a lifeboat awaiting my depart-"

A mass of acidic ooze stuck Aurel off his spidery limbs, leaving him writhing on the floor in massive agony, attempting to scream but his lungs were quickly filling up with noxious gasses despite his built in rebreather. A horde of chitinous, hunched over, insects-like monsters the size of wolves poured over him, the blue and black monsters scraping the ground with long talons the shape of scythes and sprinting faster than any human could run on a pair of cloven hooves. Some stopped to devour the still living Aurel, a mechanical hand reaching up for Thracius as he was being suffocated, chemically burnt and eaten alive by gnashing, razor sharp teeth. Thracius then noticed a bit of the acid that hit Aurel had splashed against the polymer, what was now thick and impenetrable seemed thin. As well, the plastic had dissolved in the center of the ooze leaving a small hole big enough to get his hand through. Not much but it was a start.

Suddenly the hellish creatures that devoured the Magos alive scattered, as if something scared them. Thracius could now see the remains of Aurel. Little living matter remained of the Magos, his entrails spilled and torn apart, littering the hallway. His skin was melted away and many of his muscles had been torn from his body and devoured. His one dead, human eye stare blankly at Thracius telling the full tale of his last moments among the living. A massive shadow filled the hall and concealed Aurel's mangled corpse in its bulk. Soon the figure appeared. It was a gigantic Tyranid beast a full meter taller than the already massive Thracius. The monster stood on two legs and bore scything talons similar to those of its lesser cousin. Its massive head covered in a crown of turquoise carapace. A second pair of limbs, if one dares to call them that connected together, holding a massive biological weapon, dripping with a steaming vicious fluid.

Thracius watched the fluid drip onto the metal floor beneath the creature, boring holes in the steel ground. He then noticed Aurel's signature halberd no longer baring an owner. The creature did not seem to notice Thracius, yet. In a moment of exemplary quick wit, Thracius kicked the polymer causing the vicious beast to turn its bright blue eyes, hooded by thick carapace, toward him.

"Come on, I know you want me!" Shouted Thracius kicking the barrier again "Come and get it! Soup's on!"

The towering beast slammed its head against the polymer suddenly, causing Thracius to jump back for only a moment before he continued his taunting. The creature scraped its talons against the plastic before finding the hole it unknowingly left. Its talon slid cleanly through the hole stopping centimeters before Thracius, who again was startled momentarily. Dislodging its black and turquoise talon from the hole the creature raised its weapon at the barrier before firing several thick globs of putrid fluid at it. A green smoke filled the room as the plastic melted slowly, growing thinner and thinner by the second. Thracius coughed a bit but his spare lung flushed the potent gas from his body long enough to stay vigilant.

Both Thracius and the creature backed up as if to prepare a bull's charge. Thracius counted down, sweating profusely, staring the creature down like a wild dog, refusing to show a slight of fear. Thracius finally reached zero and burst through the weakened barrier, bellowing in anticipation of the acidic pain. The beast was taken off guard as Thracius burst through the thin plastic, wrapping his one massive arm around the waist of the hulking creature and slamming it roughly into the wall. Quickly rectifying himself before his alien adversary could, Thracius grabbed Aurel's halberd and swung with all his might at the shins of this hoofed beast. The blade easily cleaved through the weaker tissue of the warrior beast, severing its feet from its legs causing it to collapse face first on Aurel's wretched corpse, releasing a vile howl of pain as it fell. Without hesitation Thracius raised the halberd one-handed and dropped it on the creature's neck, severing its spine and spilling vast amounts of brown-orange xenos blood.

Thracius let out a scream of pain, realizing the thick, acidic fluid had gotten all over his body in small amounts. Having no time or method to remove the fluid, he placed his barefoot against the cold, chitinous head of the slowly dying monster, and struggled using his one hand to pull the lodged halberd from the creatures bleeding neck. Mere seconds after the creature's demise, the clatter of hooves and talons on metal could be heard approaching. Using his bionic eye, Thracius zoomed in down to the end of the hall to see the horde of gaunt creatures covered in shreds of human gore and blood quickly returning. Leaving the blade still in the creature's neck, Thracius darted in the opposite direction, his hungry alien pursuers closing ground fast.

**The bridge lurched** yet again, sending the crew and servitors around the room in a violent display.

"Emperor Damn it, Status Report!" Michel Shouted to anyone still at their post as he pulled himself back into his chair.

"We've lost three decks to the boarding parties. Starboard batteries are reading operational but we lost a vox link to the gunners." Shouted one of the Officers.

"What about our engines? Alcyone, can you get Aurel up on vox?" Asked Ampelius pulling himself upright again.

"His vox is reading offline." She replied while reconfiguring her station. "As is most of the stern."

"Admiral we have to think quickly." Urged Ampelius looking up at the view screen to see the hive ship completely filling the screen "That thing is closing in fast. Emperor knows what happens when it gets here."

"Do we have contact with the _Grim Singer_?" ordered Michel, trying to think quickly.

"They seem to have taken out our primary vox relay Admiral. I'm not reading any communications coming in either and there's no way we'll get an astropath message out in time either, assuming the astropaths are alive even." Replied the Rear Admiral turning to Michel with great distress on her face "Admiral we're dead in the water."

At that moment the mighty hive ship seemed to turn with impossible speed for a vessel of its size. It was perfectly parallel with the Web now, hovering directly above it only a few hundred meters away. The crew of the bridge watched in horror as the underbelly of the vast ship split open to reveal millions of massive teeth, each several stories long. Three long, orange tendrils swung out of its maw and grasped the ship shaking it violently and pulling it slowly towards it. The sudden impending doom filled the hearts of all those who witnessed.

"By Terra," whispered Ampelius "It's going to eat us whole."

"No." spoke Michel with gusto. "No its not."

Michel stood and began barking orders just as he always had in moments of peril, like a true hero.

"How's our warp drive?" he ordered.

"It seems functional, my lord." Spoke a servitor.

"Great, initiate warp jump sequence in t-minus 10 minutes ." He said proudly. "If this xenos scum thinks it can take the _Triton's Web_ it will have to pry its controls from my cold dead hands."

"I am your will, my lord." Replied the humanoid drone.

"Admiral, that's suicide, there's no way the ship can survive the Empyrean in its state." Intervened Ampelius "Not to mention the creature we're attached to. It could destroy us the moment we jump."

"Precisely," began Michel with a sharp attractive smile "That's why every one of you has been ordered to abandon ship."

Silence filled the bridge. Ampelius stood in shock.

"Admiral," he began "We're not going to let you die like this."

"I don't believe I made it a choice Ampelius." Barked Michel, his smile fading "You've served me for almost a century proudly. I just wish you could have inherited the _Web_." Michel slapped Ampelius' shoulder and gave a smile. "Where's my recaff? I don't remember getting that this morning."

The bridge was silent albeit the droning klaxons. Michel looked at the view screen and saw the maw of the Hive ship closing in, attempting to slowly devour his crew alive.

"What the hell are you all doing here?" he barked as a servitor rolled up with his recaff made with fresh grox milk. He took the mug and looked harshly at his subordinates. "That was a damned order!"

"All do respect, Admiral." Said Alcyone standing firmly "Fuck your order."

Alcyone gave her admiral the sign of the Aquila across her chest. The others of the crew, both marine and human alike stood and saluted the Admiral. Michel felt swelling pride and growing sadness as he saw the honor these brave men and women had for one another and him. He turned to Ampelius his helm removed and tossed aside revealing a tanned, bald, young-looking man riddled with scars, his armored gauntlets crossing his chest as well in the sign of the Aquila. Michel took a sip from his mug, looking Ampelius in the eyes for the first time in quite some time. Both shared a smile, well aware of the fate they and the entire bridge of the _Triton's Web_ had chosen.

"Well then," Priscus says with a smug smile. "One betrays my orders and you all think its okay?"

The bridge laughed before being seated one last time, staring straight into the eyes of death itself and daring to say "no". Priscus stood center of his elegant ship one last time before turning to the servitor at the warp jump station.

"Override last order," he said proudly "Initiate warp jump sequence immediately."

"I am your will, my lord." The rest of the time the bridge was filled with the muttered prayers of the faithful as they were ushered to the Throne.

**Kharyi Marcellus gripped** his command chair as the manta creatures cut deep grooves into the _Grim Singer_ with every swooping pass. Gripping his inner-ear vox unit Marcellus screamed at Admiral Michel as he watched the massive teeth of the alien flag ship dig in to the hull of the _Triton's Web_.

"Throne be damned Michel do you copy?" he bellowed with fury turning to his chief gunnery officer. "Unload Starboard cannons at that beast. Tear it to bloody shreds."

"Admiral," interjected Vice Admiral Merari Akosy "You know as well as us all that it's a lost cause, there is nothing we can do to break them free of its grasp. Beside we're surrounded! We need as much available fire as we can get."

Marcellus watched the multiple view screens and saw the graphic display on each. He watched as the remaining pincer ships tore the smaller escort vessels apart with ease, condemning thousands to fiery death or the horrific death in the void. The mantas surrounded the _Emperor's Child_, cutting vital weapons and relays from it with every swoop causing massive explosions to be easily seen from a distance. His gaze finally fell on the doomed _Triton's Web_ as internal explosions began firing though out the ship caused by the slowly sinking maw of the hive ship.

Marcellus placed his hand on the gold Aquila forged onto his emerald breast plate. Vice Admiral Akosy barked orders in the obvious absence of leadership. The Admiral of the Grim Singer felt heavy and weak as these vile monstrosities tore apart his beloved vessel. He could only pray to the Emperor, pray for his might to intervene in this time of crisis.

Suddenly, as soon as the whispered words of prayer exited Marcellus' lips, a bright light, like that of the very Emperor's aura filled the room. Seconds later the entire ship lurched as a titanic shockwave spread across the fleet. Sparks shot from equipment and the crew struggled to maintain footing as they were struck by what felt like the fury of a god. The bridge went dark, the occasional sparking of equipment lighting the room. The bridge was silent, eerily silent. No shaking or warning klaxons, just the deafening silence.

"Bring up some damn lights!" Marcellus finally said after what felt like an eternity. When the auxiliary power kicked in the bridge was revealed to be disheveled and damaged. Seconds later the view screens were brought back online and primary power was restored. Marcellus stood slack jawed in awe at the primary view screen. Both the _Triton's Web_ and the Tyranid flag ship had seemingly vanished, leaving an aura of colors and wreckage in their wake. The bow of the Tyranid flag ship the only discernable remains of the two intertwined vessels. Orange blood spilled from its gaping wound as it drifted, lifeless into the endless void. The crew rang with applause as they and all other vessels watched the remaining Tyranid ships scatter without direction, Marcellus could say nothing still to awe stricken with what had happened.

"That dumb Novamarine bastard." He said softly with a chuckle "He warp jumped."

Marcellus regained his composure and began blasting orders.

"Fire all available weapons at those wretched scums! Let none escape."

All ships followed in suit, within mere minutes annihilating the remaining, clueless Tyranid ships as they mindlessly scattered.

"Well, I'd call that a victory." Spoke an officer triumphantly. The crew seemingly went silent as this arrogant marine spoke up.

"Victory?" said Marcellus, standing up, almost offended "We lost two vital ships including a space marine strike cruiser, several escort vessels and countless lives. You call that a victory. I'd hate to see what you consider defeat."

Marcellus pushed passed the overly enthusiastic officer as he went to exit the bridge. The Admiral stopped as the bulkhead opened and turned to speak to the young marine once again.

"Besides, that was only the vanguard."


	4. IV - Bastion III

IV

Bastion III

**Beneath the chaos** of Castle Rock and above the sullied Underhive lay a labyrinth of canals and access corridors for the maintenance staff that takes care of the facilities of the cities above and beneath it. Pipelines filled with flammable gases and water spanned across every wall of these seemingly endless corridors, delivering the much needed utilities for the civilians above and below. The hard working ratings and their dedicated servitors sheltered in solace from the mayhem their city had under come. Each had their own, seemingly menial yet vital, tasks to perform in order to keep Castle Rock in running order. Without even a handful of these vital workers, the city would slowly fall into disarray.

The specter that stalked these halls was all too aware of this fact, skulking and assessing each of its vital targets with the tactical genius of a super-computer. They work ignorant to the beast that lurks in their midst, stalking them with blood thirsty intentions. One of the grease-caked workers, a middle-aged woman by the name of Savitiri, overheard a calamitous noise down one of the corridors near her station. Suddenly caught off guard by the disturbance, Savitiri made her way to down the dark, humid hallway to see the source. Holding her glo-lamp in front of her to light the damp, dreary corridor, the Skyfall woman pressed on ignorant to the horror that awaits her.

Upon arriving at the scene, Savitiri covered her mouth and coughed as her gag reflex trigged at the sight of one of the servitors mangled and gutted like a wild animal. She held the lamp up to it to see it fully in the light, the lobotomized servant had been almost completely severed at the midriff, its intestines shredded and scattered around the corridor in a horrific display. Several deep gashes a few centimeters apart covered his neck and head; the wounds appearing to be surgical, striking every vital artery with deadly precision.

"Cain," she said into her shoulder mounted vox, with disgust heavy in her voice. "We need a clean up crew in sector 34-Delta. Something got to the servitor at the primary gas valve."

"Roger, dispatching servitor team now." Replied the man at the communications office "Does it look like an animal did it or something?"

"I-I don't know." Savitiri replied leaning in closer to the servitor's corpse "Some of these look like gunshot wounds, but…"

"But what?"

Savitiri reached down, her face a skewed and pulled a fragment of black bone from one of the Servitor's neck wound. She looked curiously, seeing it shaped like a sharp barb like an ancient arrow head. "What the hell?" she said to herself. The sickening crunching of bone rattled in Savitiri's head, her body suddenly paralyzed in agony. She opened her mouth to scream but only a thick stream of blood poured out. Her eyes glanced down to see a massive barb, much like the one she held in her hand painted with her own blood protruding from her sternum. She was slowly lifted by an unseen force causing her to spasm in unimaginable pain. Savitiri looked up at the shadows to see what caused her to levitate. A hideous set of six, glowing, blue eyes stared at her in her dying moments. In a spectacle of light and color, the creature revealed itself to be a titanic mantis creature hanging upside down on the ceiling and using its several meter long tail as its choice of weapon. In both shock and panic, Savitiri shook, letting out a broken scream before its tendril maw enveloped her skull, crushing it like a rotted melon.

The beast released her decapitated corpse and returned to its invisible state. A series of metal boots clamored against the metal grating, three servitors escorted by a rating worked their way down the dark, menacing hallway. The creature poised itself for yet another glorious series of kills.

**The hot desert** wind of high altitude Castle Rock made it extremely difficult for Commander Tahmid to light his cigar. Ashok nervously toyed with his steel lighter as he watched the horror of the battle in the stars. The massive, city sized vessels easily seen from the surface of Skyfall. Horrific explosions made a caustic firework show in the day for those who hastily prepared for the defense of Castle Rock. Ashok still fiddled with his lighter, desperate for a reprieve however brief and simple. He spared another glace upward to see a huge splinter-shaped Tyranid vessel dangerously close to Skyfall. A massive storm seemed to collect at the horizon rapidly enveloping the battle above. Powerful bolts of lightening arced from the grey clouds. Soon the entire space battle was out of site shrouded by the foreboding storm. In awe Ashok witnessed as dozens of black dots, far off in the distance, carrying the enemy powered from the storm toward the earth below.

Hearing the mumbling sound of one of his Space Marine ally's voice growing near, Ashok turned to face him, seeing only the more distressing image of Captain Abdul baring a look of defeat. Speaking once more into his vox unit, Abdul removed his hand from his ear and marched fully toward the PDF Commander, his emerald body guard three paces behind him.

"Well?" began asking Ashok, not truly wishing to know the answer.

"Things are grim at best, Commander." Abdul began, standing with Ashok at the edge of the hangar "The _Void's Cry_ is confirmed to be downed and contact has been lost with _Triton's Web._ In addition, those specks off in the distance are meiotic spores, each carrying up to twenty Tyranid foot soldiers."

"Damn," hissed Ashok throwing his failing lighter down finally in frustration "Those are awfully closer to us than the north pole, Captain. What do you have to say about that?"

"Predicting the Tyranid is like predicting where the wind will blow in the next hour, Commander." Spoke the Invader with conviction "All it takes is some small tactical action by the Star Captains to affect the entire fleet's method of attack."

"Commander!" a young soldier said, running as fast as he can to his superior officer "We have received reports from Bastion III that the alien has made planet fall 500km out or less from their location. They still have several hundred civilians stationed there Commander."

Ashok felt his stomach rise to meet his dropping heart. Wiping his beard nervously the Commander stood in shocked silence. Looking up at the soldier with a fiery passion, Ashok spoke.

"Mount up three Valkries and defend those people with all your might." He ordered.

"Yes, commander." Bowed the messenger

"Negative, soldier." Interjected Captain Abdul "Until we receive the word from the _Grim Singer_, unnecessary aeronautical missions are denied."

"Of course, my lord." Bowed the messenger to Abdul

"Double Negative, Soldier!" barked Ashok "You follow my orders directly!"

"Of course, my commander" stammered the Soldier quite confused, but not leaving in fear of his orders again being overridden.

"What gives you the right to think you can order my men, Captain?" continued Ashok removing his sun shades and looking up with spite at the Invaders Captain. "Need I remind you whose planet you are standing on?"

Abdul's lip curled into a growling anger at the audacity of this old man before him.

"Need I remind you who has the experience in fighting these alien brutes, Commander Tahmid?" barked Abdul "That storm out there is not natural. It is the first element of a Tyranid invasion. They are releasing radioactive elements from their ships to the surface of Skyfall to adapt the planet to their needs. If you fly your men into that there's no telling what they'll face."

"Disregard his orders Soldier," said Abdul attempting to contain his growing impatience "All air forces remain grounded until further notice."

The Commander began to open his mouth again to retort but before he could, a collection of Novamarines approached. The leader of them a graying, older looking marine, the bolts implanted in his forehead implying his rank as Sergeant.

"If I may interject, gentlemen." He began politely and uniform "I'm Sgt. Appius, Novamarines 5th Company. With both your permissions I could lead a defense mission with ground forces. If there is a highway that leads to or near Bastion III, a Combat Squad of my men and a few squads of your PDF Commander could reach it in ample time via ground transport."

The two leaders stood in silent thought for a moment.

"Is there such a road to the Bastion, Tahmid?" asked Abdul

"There is, highway 14, connect to 36, it will take you right there." Replied Tahmid

"You think only a combat squad is capable of dealing with this vanguard force, Sergeant?" asked Abdul

"In contingency with about two or so fully equipped squads of PDF Troopers mounted in Chimeras, I don't see why it would be unachievable." He replied with a warm smile "It won't be a walk in the park but we can't lose any more troops than that if the mission goes awry."

"Do I have your permission, Captain?" grumbled Ashok, sarcastically to Abdul.

Abdul said nothing; he simply skewed his face and nodded.

"Soldier," Ashok said turning to the still waiting messenger "Dispatch two Armored Fist squadrons from 6th Company and have them ready to depart on Sergeant Appius' command."

"Yes, Commander!" he said with a salute before darting off to the main dispatch center within the base.

"Sergeant Appius," Ashok said turning to the aged marine giving the sign of the Aquila. "My men are at your disposal, don't whip them too hard."

"Well noted, Commander." Appius replied, returning the sign of the Aquila

Appius returned to his blue and bone squad, having been completely armored and prepped for three days, ready to deliver the Emperor's justice.

"Brother Democritus, Brother Theocritus, Brother Kreios, with me." Ordered Appius pointing with his full hand to each of the disciplined marines as he marched past "Brother Hippolyos, you as well. Your holy promethium will be most useful in dispatching this vile menace, I predict."

"Aye, my Sergeant." The Marines replied in unison, hefting their mighty bolters and following steps behind their superior officer.

Terentius, the hot-headed plasma cannon wielder quickly ran after his Brothers, those remaining sighing in a collective annoyance. Terentius finally reached his Sergeant, despite the massive bulk of his heavy weapon and spoke eagerly but his voiced laced with disappointment.

"Sergeant, you will need a mass of plasma to fight off the big ones, too, will you not?"

"Keep on to the Rhino brothers I will meet you there." Said Appius, stopping to talk to the youthful marine before him. Given that Appius was tall his towering presence over Terentius only made the already stout marine seem shorter. "Your heavy fire power is more needed here, brother. Besides a fast action mission has little use for someone who uses your style of weapon."

"You think I can't keep up, don't you?" reeled Terentius "You don't think I'm as capable do you. You never have!"

The other marines pretended not to watch as their normally calm sergeant grew swelteringly angry. Terentius realized the harshness of his tone almost immediately, looking down in shame.

"I'm sorry my Sergeant," he began.

"Do not apologize for addressing your concern to me, boy." Said the sage suddenly calm again, before leaning down and speaking softly to his subordinate "But do not think that I will not make an example of you before your brothers if you outburst against me like that again. There is no room for selfishness in a Space Marine, Terentius. Meditate on that, and we will discuss your actions further when I return."

Turning on his heel and unhinging his helm from his belt, Appius walked down the tall hallway that leads to the base of the mount. Terentius turned to his fellow marines, without seeing their faces Terentius knew they looked at him with mocking eyes. Terentius was one of the youngest to be inducted as a space marine in his Chapter's history. He knew many both envied him for his premature skill and looked down on him as immature and lesser. Outbursts like that only fueled their feelings. He only hoped the one who truly believed in him, Sergeant Appius, could forgive him for his foolish, childlike ways.

**A blue and** bone quarter patterned Rhino powered down the 36th highway of Skyfall, two desert camouflaged chimera tanks hot on its trail. The three armored transports excelled on flat ground, moving at about 70km per hour at a flat out speed. The Chimera's, being lighter tanks, can naturally go faster on a road but are trailing their command vehicle with great precision. In lieu of the chaos of the past few months highway 36 was a disastrous sight. Vehicles had been abandoned in panic and personal belongings were left in effort to reach Castle Rock before the dooming invasion.

Occasionally a corpse or even a group of corpses could be seen, the refugees' bodies' haven given up in the sweltering heat and dry air in their vain attempt to find safety. Vehicular collisions were common in the masses, the remains of victims of fatal accidents left behind to rot in the desert sun. At several points the convoy's advances slowed to a crawl, attempting to traverse over dozens of neglected vehicles, left behind in a senseless traffic jam. War truly did bring out the worst of human panic and need for survival.

After over an hour of nonstop travel the convoy saw the doomed Bastion III. The massive copper tower stood like a beacon in the distance, a symbol of Imperial military prowess. Many of the four facings of the tower were opened allowing automated heavy bolter turrets to be placed for ultimate defense. Atop the bastion a large powerful vox relay pulsated red, the very tip of it being devoured by the low storm. The grey storm clouds were now black and hung low above the military tower. Powerful red lightening struck down and acid rain poured down around the settlement, as if the weather itself was targeting the encampment. With Appius' knowledge of the Tyranid from the Tyrant War, he was too familiar with this concept.

The convoy barreled over the bodies and neglected vehicles of failed refugees with little care in attempt to get closer to their objective. A massive off-ramp lead the convoy to the road that leads to the encampment. As they drew closer the sight and sound of gunfire and screams of civilians filled the cabins of the transports. Appius gazed out the view slits of the Rhino's cockpit. Through the red lenses of his bird-like Mk 6 helm, Appius watched in horror as he saw they had arrived just short of on time. Several mutilated and chemically dissolved corpses litter the encampment, the mud caked with gore from both alien and human soldiers alike. He watched as several civilians ran for their lives, holding on to loved ones, only to be gunned down by the vicious Tyranid known as gaunts. Vile blue and black monsters scattered the large base firing bio-weapons at the scattered refugees while the black and brown PDF soldiers already stationed at Bastion III volleyed their lasguns into the dozens of encroaching insectoids.

Popping the hatch at the top of the cockpit, Appius pulled himself up with ease and gripped the storm bolter mounted on the Rhino's hull. With the martial precision signature to the Adeptus Astartes, Appius began unloading the duel barrel weapon into the unsuspecting Tyranid invaders. Powerful explosive shells tore through the weak carapace of the creatures with ease, leaving gaping exit wounds, spattering the muddy earth with orange ichors. The Guardsmen vehicles followed suit firing their turret-mounted multi-lasers into the larger creatures. These hulking creatures, well towering over space marines, were obliterated by the high powered light, turning the mighty insect warriors into little more than a pile of steaming gore.

Brothers Kreios and Theocritus opened the back hatch of the blue and bone APC, unleashing torrents of holy bolter fire into the masses of Tyranid. The Novamarines and PDF powered through the encampment, leaving a trail of orange, spattered corpses in their wake. Meters away from the mighty Bastion III, the convoy screeched to a halt, turning on their sides and opening their boarding hatches. Two dozen guardsmen and five power-armored behemoths emerged into the pouring, unnatural rain.

"Unit II, scatter and find any survivors, we will have your backs." Barked Appius nobly, unsheathing his chainsword "Unit III, take the remaining PDF into the Bastion and fortify it, this is far from all they've got. Squad Appius! Purge the alien!"

The units all followed their orders without question as the tide of gnashing teeth and claws engaged them with an insatiable hunger. Pressing the activation rune on his chainsword, the sergeant's blade whirred to life meeting head on a leaping gaunt, talons extended for the kill. Appius caught the monster mid air with a graceful swing, severing it at the midsection, coating the sage's ancient armor with orange slime. Carrying the motion fully, Appius spun cleaving the scalps from two other hunched over Tyranid, causing alien fluid to spray from their exposed brains.

Squad Appius unleashed a hail of bolter rounds into the crowd of gaunts, not ceasing in the rapid march. Las and bolter fire from the transports and tower fired past their shoulders to aid the fight. With every shot a spout of orange ichors sprayed into the air coating the soggy earth with their gory remains. No one creature got closer than a meter before meeting their gruesome demise at the hands of these angels of death. Yet another Tyranid attempted to attack the sergeant, leaping in the air in effort to slash downward. Appius quickly brought his bolt pistol up to bare smashing the muzzle into its chin, shattering its chitin before firing a heavenly round into its head. Hippolyos ignited the flame at the end of his holy flamer and doused the horde in chemical fire. The burning creatures screamed as their organs ruptured and burst from the intense heat and their fleshy underbellies were scorched away.

Chitin and gore spattered beneath their boots as Squad Appius marched over the sea of dead monsters to meet the final gaunts in combat. Hippolyos torched the remaining beasts in holy fire while Appius struggled with the remaining gaunt. The creature clawed at his thick ceramite armor but was met with failure. Jumping up yet again, Appius fired a single bolt round into its stomach; grazing it just enough to stun it and deliver the killing blow. With a swing of his chainsword, Appius cleaved the head from the downed Tyranid with ease, leaving a gushing orange stump in his wake. The warriors stood triumphant and caked in alien blood. Quickly reloading their weapons in unison, the team assessed their surroundings. The roar of alien beasts and gunfire still aplenty, but worse yet, the rain had suddenly stopped.

"I don't like that." Spoke Kreios looking to the stormy sky.

"Neither do I." returned Appius raising his hand as a symbol to fall back "Withdraw to the Bastion, we'll rendezvous with the others."

As they turned, Democritus noticed a strange mound beneath his feet. Sparing it only a brief glance he noticed it begin to rise and split the earth.

"Sergeant," he said cautiously backing up, his weapon raised.

As soon as he spoke, a series of violent tremors shook the ground they stand on, causing several more mounds to appear. Within seconds of the first tremor the first mound burst, scattering mud in all directions. A large serpentine Tyranid, much like the bipedal, crowned warriors emerged, its sternum a massive fleshy orifice. The creatures hissed at Democritus, who hesitated for a second too long.

"Raveners!" he cried raising his bolter and merely firing merely a single shot as a blast of hot, venomous mucous shot from the creature's chest using a violent spasm with enough force to knock Democritus from his feet. As the others turned to fire at the Ravener, though easily dispatching the monster, three others emerged from the earth in a similar fashion. As well countless miniscule insects burst from the ground around their feet, little more than a mobile collection of vicious teeth.

"Fall back!" barked Appius into his vox praying the others had not already met a similar fate. "I repeat! All units; fall back!

Appius began marching backwards firing several bolts into the oncoming, serpentine threat but causing little impact. He spared a glance at Democritus and felt his stomach boil in rage. The marine lay still, his breast plate already melted away, the acid boring through his dense ribcage and dissolving many of his vital organs beyond healing. Appius turned away and began sprinting; unloading the clip of his pistol into the horde, several shots taking chucks off the Raveners or obliterating a close knit collection of the swarms beneath them.

The serpentine beasts slithered quickly, wrapping themselves around and between the corpses of their fallen cousins and firing several shots of putrid acid at the marines. Running past the Rhino, Appius shouted at the pilot who still mounted the Storm bolter, firing an onslaught of devastating shots into the oncoming horde. The bastion opened and the marines charged in covering the sergeant as he followed up the steps behind them.

"Get out of there, Priam!" Appius bellowed at the pilot, suddenly noticing the guardsmen of Unit II, around half their original numbers, and a group of civilians being followed by six or more Raveners and a horde of gaunts. These Raveners fired spines from their chests, launching dozens of poisonous barbs at the humans, instantly killing three civilians and two members of the PDF. One Appius' pursuers squirmed with unnatural ease past the transports, firing a thick ball of mucous at the sergeant. A good portion struck his helmet, immediately disabling his automatic sensors and rendering him blind. Appius quickly removed his helm, but the beast was already atop him before he could rectify himself. The Ravener squealed in pain as several bolter shots from both the bastion and the rhino ripped his dark blue torso to shreds of orange, chitinous gore.

Priam, who had pivoted his storm bolter to protect his sergeant, unleashed a torrent of fire into the armored back of the Tyranid beast, severing it in half at the chest. Just as he had turned to face the still present threat at his rear, one of the monsters had sprung atop of him ripping one of his mighty arms from his shoulder in a single swipe of its talon. Fighting the creature off with one arm and all his might did nothing to stop the wicked maw of the creature from biting down into the soft of his armor and tearing out his throat.

"No!" bellowed Appius wishing to charge the beast but was further cut off by two Tyranid gaunts having slipped though his vision. With a mighty swing of his revving blade, he hacked great, fatal wounds into the creatures' heads. Appius readied his stance as another enormous serpent charged at him with breakneck speed, six arms ending in thick, razor-sharp bone talons poised for the kill. As the creature lunged, Appius spun with its momentum, grabbing its massive crown of chitin with his free hand and driving it to the muddy earth. Using all his superhuman might to keep the creature down, he drove his chainsword through the creature's eye and out the other, letting the revving blades liquefy its wretched mind before finally removing the now orange sword.

"Sergeant!" bellowed Hippolyos, firing his entire bolt pistol clip into the encroaching Raveners, each bolt purely stunning it momentarily "We need to fall back now!"

Appius turned on his heel and charged up the stairway to the heavy metal bulkhead. As he ran in, Hippolyos unleashed the remains of his flamer canister into the oncoming Tyranid in one last attempt to repel them before the doors locked with thousands of kilograms of pressure.

Out of fuel, Hippolyos' flamer turned off, and the marine let himself lean against the archway of the bastion. Appius turned off his blade and sheathed it, feeling safe for the mean time, and allowed himself to catch his breath. As he panted he looked at the camp's survivors. Scores of terrified men and women held tightly to their young, frightened children, all of which were covered in the filthy, toxic rainwater. Many of these parents tried and failed to remain calm for the young ones. The sound of muffled cries, sobbing and constant terror filled the room. The grey, metal bastion was quite spacious, capable of housing scores of soldiers during times of strife. However, over a hundred terrified people of Skyfall now filled the multi level bastion. His ornate armor riddled with xenos filth and the infected rain water, Appius walked slowly observing the facility. The thick, ancient walls built ages ago for a war long forgotten had aged considerably. The metal of the facility had rusted in many places, and many of the computers had long since ceased to function or its inhabitants had forgotten their uses. It was shabby at best, but it would hold, for now.

A young woman with a shaved head and wearing the traditional Skyfall PDF uniform made her way down the primary stairwell. Her skin was well tanned, like many other Skyfall civilians, her hair and eyes a dark brown. Patches of grey could be pinpointed through out her hair, no doubt induced from the stress of her recent disposition. She was well fit, short and quite attractive, however her eyes had noticeable bags beneath them, indicating lack of sleep. She walked with dignity and discipline, no doubt from years of rigorous training for a day such as this. She approached the Sergeant, placing her hands over her chest in sign of the Aquila before speaking.

"I assume you are in charge here." Appius spoke, never more calm and polite then now.

"So to speak." She said removing her hands, somewhat stunned to be in the same room with an Adeptus Astartes let alone speaking to one "Lieutenant Nazli, Skyfall Planetary Defense Force, 2nd Company, 9th Platoon, at your service my lord."

"Sergeant Appius. Novamarines, 5th Company" the Sergeant replied returning the sign of the Aquila and walking up the stairs to the main command room. "I hope you'll forgive me if I skip anymore pleasantries, but there is little time. The oncoming swarm will only increase and we must find a plan of evacuation. I'm aware these bastions often have underground access, is there any such access here?"

"There is," she began "Though I'm afraid it was long ago sealed and it's beyond our knowledge of how to open."

"Perhaps we can find a way to override the seal." He replied "Where is it?"

"The basement level." Said Nazli

"Theo." barked Appius to Theocritus, who was already on the second level.

"Yes, Sergeant?" the marine asked approaching quickly.

"There is an underground access port in the basement of the bastion that has been sealed for generations," began Appius "Have some of Unit III aid you in locating it and do your best to open it by any means necessary."

"Understood, Sergeant." Theo replied with a nod quickly running to the lower level.

"What about outside communications?" asked Appius turning to the Lieutenant

"All vox stations within the bastion have been disrupted by the storm." Returned Nazli "Though the primary relay is strong enough to possibly get a signal out, however weak."

"Good, I need a vox officer and a handful of your guardsmen to follow me to the roof." Appius spoke gravely "If we don't get a distress signal out and we can't open that tunnel then we're not going anywhere, and we only have as much time as it takes those tunneling bastards to get in."

**Captain Leon rushed** down the rocky corridor to the main command facility of Castle Rock. Leon entered the granite rotunda to be met with the faces of Commander Tahmid and Colonel Cyprian and their respective Commissars. The commanding officers' faces were lit with the pale green light of the hololith at the room's center. A single PDF vox-caster stands between the two factions' leaders, fervently attempting to maintain the broken signal between Bastion III and Castle Rock HQ.

"I came as soon as I heard." Spoke the Captain "What's the situation?"

"Bastion III has come under heavy resistance," began the thick-accented Cyprian "Squad Appius has managed to secure the tower with grievous casualties."

"Is he on? Can I speak to him?" Leon urged.

"I can't seem to get a decent signal, my lord," Replied the vox-caster. "The storm's interference has become too strong."

"Damn, then what resources do we have available to us?" inquired Leon.

"Captain Abdul is currently in conversation with Admiral Marcellus of the _Grim Singer."_ Replied Tahmid. "Last I heard Marcellus should soon sound the all clear; we should be able to carry out an aeronautical mission."

"What was stopping you before?" Leon questioned, looking puzzled.

"Captain Abdul demanded all aircraft stay grounded until the space battle came to a close." Returned Tahmid, with a scoff.

Leon felt not only offended but enraged at the fact that Abdul had so easily usurped his position as supreme commander of Skyfall's defense. Taking in a heavy breath heatedly, Leon exhaled composed.

"Well I must remind myself to have a discussion with Captain Abdul in private." Leon muttered, rubbing his temple in mild frustration.

"I've got a signal!" shouted the Vox-caster hastily handing the head set to Leon. "You must hurry; I have no idea how long I can keep the signal pure."

Quickly retrieving the headset, Leon lowered his cream-colored hood and placed the earpiece over his head of blonde hair.

"Castle Rock this is Bastion III. Do you read?" said the familiar, elderly voice of Sergeant Appius.

"Appius you idiotic old bastard." Barked Leon with a smile of relief to hear his old friend. "Need I re-read you the codex before you go on crusades without my permission?"

"Captain if I had a throne for every time you said that I could purchase the entire Chapter." Replied Appius loudly, attempting to be heard over the roar of heavy bolter turrets firing into the ever-growing Tyranid populace.

"Indeed, Brother." Leon said, respect for his elder friend ever-present in his tone. "What's your status?"

"Poor, Captain." Appius said, looking up at the rapidly moving black clouds above. "We have half a platoon here and easily a hundred survivors. We need immediate reinforcements; the xenos is only growing more aggressive by the moment."

"We're working on that as we speak, Sergeant." Captain Leon pressed his hand over the microphone and turned to Tahmid "How fast can you prepare a Valkyrie Squad commander?"

"Immediately." Tahmid said, taking direct action and pressing down the corridor, lighting another cigar as he walked with vindication.

"Commander!" yelled Anwar following quickly behind him.

"Help is on its way, Appius," Pleaded Leon "We received word not 5 minutes ago that the Tyranid vanguard fleet was annihilated. The enemy army is capped now, what you see is all they have. Hold out a while longer, old friend."

"Bloody great!" laughed Appius over the roar of the alien swarm attempting to climb the tower. "Tell me thank Admiral Michel when I get back, eh?"

The other end lay silent for several seconds; the lump in Leon's throat rendering him incapable of speaking.

"Captain, do you read?" said Appius turning to the Vox-caster with him, who vigorously fiddled with the controls of the relay.

"Yes, I read you Sergeant." Leon said solemnly "I, uh, I don't know how to say this but: the _Triton's Web_ and its crew were destroyed in the process of dispatching the Tyranid flag ship."

Appius too fell silent, his heart heavy at the thought of the loss of his great Admiral.

"Priscus is dead, Appius." Leon said driving the hammer of sorrow into Appius' chest. "He gave his life for us all; and for Skyfall."

The line grew heavy with dizzying static. Leon turned to the vox-caster who only shook his head. The connection was lost, but there was nothing more to be said. Leon now left the fate of one of his greatest friends and most noble soldiers in the hands of Commander Tahmid.

**Taking great puffs** from his thick cigar as he marched, Ashok began barking orders to the crew on the flight deck in order to prepare a daring rescue mission. As he approached one of the three Valkyries commissioned for the retaliatory attack, he began removing his gaudy, cotton Skyfall robe to reveal his hardened brown and black Carapace armor. He reached out to a guard who carried his black helm, incrusted with a platinum Imperial insignia of the Aquila, the planetary symbol of Skyfall carved into the heart of the twin-headed eagle. A collection of exactly thirty guardsmen of the Skyfall PDF's 4th company, the Drop Company, made their way into the hanger; fully equipped for a standard air mission.

"Commander Tahmid," shouted Anwar quickly running after his Commander, his black coat-tails flowing behind him "Ashok wait. What exactly are you expecting to do?"

"I sent those boys out there to die, Anwar, unknowing of the horrors they'd face." he began placing the helmet on, and struggling to get the strap past his grayish beard. "Its only fitting I lead the spearhead to bring them home."

"With all due respect commander, that's a stupid plan." Exclaimed the Commissar. "You are needed here, where the true fight is. If, Emperor forbid, you were to perish on this senseless mission the PDF would be thrown into disarray."

Ashok looked and Anwar with disgust and frustration, removing his thick sunshades to look him in his beady red eyes directly.

"Senseless?" growled Ashok "You think these people's lives are senseless? Those are dedicated soldiers out there. Those are innocent men, women and _children_ about to be torn apart by a vile threat!"

"Commander, I merely-" tried to interject Anwar

"No shut the hell up!" bellowed Ashok, the massive hangar growing silent for a moment before continuing along their routine. "I grow extremely tired of you questioning my judgment, Commissar. You hear me? Commissar! Not Lord Castellan, not Lord General, not even Lord fucking Commissar! _Regimental _Commissar. You answer to me. Understood?"

Ashok turned from his Commissar furious, returning his sunshades to his cavernous face and preparing to meet the PDF soldiers from Skyfall's 4th Company standing at attention. Anwar continued after his Commander, persistent to make his point.

"Commander if you'd allow me to finish-" spoke the Commissar meekly.

"What?" barked Ashok turning to his Commissar one last time "Speak your damn mind then!"

"I mean the mission is senseless for you to attend. I volunteer myself to lead the spearhead." The Commissar stood promptly and looking dignified at his commander hoping he listens to his advice for once.

Ashok stood in thought for a few moments. _Perhaps this boneheaded albino is right. _He thought to himself. Ashok, himself was far too valuable in times of war such as now.

"Alright," replied Ashok reluctantly, Anwar trying not to look proud in response "You're right. I permit you to lead the retaliation, Commissar Anwar."

Ashok began removing his tight helmet and began walking past the commissar to return to the command rotunda. He stopped beside him and gave him a sideways glance.

"Don't screw this up." He said threateningly before heading out of the hangar.

Anwar's face contorted into a sickly smile. He turned to the soldiers now under his command and marched before them, spouting words of zealous encouragement signature to the Commissariat.

**Governess Amira sat** in her large lavish office; the room plastered with paintings of famous Guardsmen and Governors whose roots are imbedded in the history of Skyfall. Over the marble floor sprawled a lush and vibrant rug made of the finest of Skyfall furs that took majority of the floor space. Elegant, antiquated furniture for meetings and recreational breaks lay arranged in pristine formations. Amira continually readjusted her massive desk's organization; placing her quills parchments and data slate in different calculated positions before looking dissatisfied and stressfully replacing them.

Amira was not completely young, roughly forty-years-old or so, so to speak, but her appearance gave the distinction of an older age. Her tanned face stretched in places, causing small wrinkles and imperfections. Sun spots plagued her skin, her constant diplomatic missions all over the primary cities of Skyfall leaving her at mercy of the hot sun's radiation. Her raven hair was, as always tied into a bun neatly behind her head and held in place with a platinum quill, a gift from the previous Planetary Governor and unofficial badge of office. A single silver streak stands out through her dark hair a bizarre trait she'd had since her early twenties. Her eyes coated in various degrees of cataracts, well past the time for cybernetic replacements. Amira did not believe in defiling her body by unnatural means, a rather unpopular opinion in a hive city such as Castle Rock.

A man dressed in a white robe, draped with gold fibers spun into a fulsome head-wrap shawl, entered the room. He was Ahmet Avahkian, Director of Internal Affairs here at Castle Rock and Amira's personal advisor. His right eye was replaced with a platinum bionic orb; several tiny wires shattered his face, acting as fasteners for the device. His dark, aged skin was pitted and worn, much like that of the Governess. Aside from a chin covered in a bushy, black goatee; he was completely bald. Beneath his gossamer robe, traditional coveralls of the lower ranks of the Adeptus Terra could be seen.

"Governess," he said with a bow of respect, his accent laced with elements of his peasant upbringing outside of Castle Rock "More reports from the Corridors have just arrived."

Ahmet handed a mid-sized data slate to Amira, who sat upright and balanced. She took a few brief glances, feeling her gullet rise at the crime picts of horrifically mutilated ratings. Several were merely bloody, deep puncture wounds like gunshots hitting every vital organ with computer precision. Others were dismembered, disemboweled and reduced to caustic displays of what was a human body. Amira covered her mouth, feeling bile rise in her throat at the site of a woman's head had been crushed in from the top, the remains of her brains oozing out onto the floor. She turned away handing the slate back to Ahmet.

"What could possibly have done this?" she asked, struggling to keep her last meal down.

"We suspect it could be a series of gang attacks from the Underhive. They could be using the madness of the invasion as a window of opportunity to attack and emerge into the over world." Spoke Ahmet seemingly calmer about the situation.

"What human-being would do that to another person?" she said skeptically

"The cartels in the Underhive are vicious, my lady. No doubt this could be the first set of possible terrorist attacks." Ahmet replied certain in his theories

"You sure this is human? Not one of those monsters?" Amira seemed quite worried for the safety of her civilians, now having done some research on the menace they were facing in addition to what she had been told by Captain Abdul.

"Highly unlikely, my lady," he began "Only creatures reported to make planet fall are almost 200km out north of hear. Doubt they could make it that far on foot without being spotted. In addition even if they could, Castle Rock has been locked down for the past week. No one is getting in or out without direct permission from Commander Tahmid."

"I suppose you're right." She said with a slight smile, feeling a bit more at ease. "I want a full Enforcer team down in the corridors around the clock, searching for the punks that did this. Use lethal force if necessary."

"Absolutely, my lady." Replied Ahmet, bowing his head again.

"In addition amp up security here at the Administratum, if these cartels think they can try to take my city they're dead wrong."

"Of course, my lady." Ahmet gave a final bow and retreated from the room, the massive oaken double doors opening from the outside as he exited, shutting tightly behind him.

Amira stood, feeling uneasy. The thought of both an invasion from aliens and an insurrection from within terrified her. But Amira must remain ever diligent in her duties, not allowing her personal fears and paranoia to get the better of her, though the word "terrorist" gave her the unnatural sixth-sense feeling of being watched. Amira felt that opening the massive blinds to see the view of Castle Rock's underground city and letting in the artificial sunlight radiating from Castle Rock's interior summit would possibly shake some tension.

Amira walked gracefully to the shades, her black boos clacking against the marble floor. She wore a sea foam green, two-piece suit, trimmed with black. It was uncommon for women on this world to wear such masculine clothing, though Amira was known for her unorthodoxy in her personality and beliefs, why stop at fashion sense? She arrived and the opened the five meter tall blinds to reveal the massive turret window that leads to the sprawling city. As the mahogany blinds split, artificial light flowed into the room, instantly brightening the large gloomy surroundings and putting several of Amira's worries at ease.

A shimmer of light in Amira's peripheral raised several alarms in her mind. At first dismissing it as a trick of her perishing eyes, Amira continued to look out at the bustling city. The shimmer appeared again but much more prominent in her vision this time. Slowly, and with dread, Amira looked to her left. A massive hulk of ghostlike light stood next to her, easily standing over 4 meters tall. Light seemed to bend around the ghost, creating the illusion of its presence, but being so transparent it was almost impossible to detect at all. It was then that her eyes met the specter's; 6 glowing blue almonds stared back at her, black slits acting as pupils.

The frightened woman collapses and screamed in blood-curdling terror. Within seconds, platinum plated honor guard flooded into the room; five soldiers armed with the heavy hellgun lasgun variant. By the time the men could even focus at what the Governess was seeing it had leapt upon them. After having slaughter the first three soldiers, scattering their blood and viscera across the gaudy decorations the creature revealed itself as a large, bi-pedal mantis with a tendril maw, a set of gory talons for hands and massive, bony scything talons mounted beneath its black and turquoise shoulder chitin.

As the soldiers turned to fire at the now visible creature, it turned at the waist firing massive toxic barbs from the crevasses of its bony, ribcage exoskeleton. The barbs knocked one soldier to the ground, penetrating his armor with ease, the barbs injecting vile toxins directly into his punctured heart. The other stumbled as a barb grazed his knee, causing it to go numb. He looked up in dread as the terrifying visage of the Tyranid stand before him. "No" he began to scream, as its tendril maw enveloped his head, penetrating the platinum plated flak helmet and the bone of his skull. A heinous slurping noise was heard as the soldier's body shook into violent spasms before falling completely limp. Once the creature had finished he released the soldier his face gaunt and agonized as he was lobotomized alive by the vicious monster.

The creature turned and marched in unnatural movements to Amira, who stood paralyzed in fear only capable of screaming as the monster approached her. The creature now stood, humbling the distraught woman and engulfing her in its shadow. Sobbing in surmounting fear, Amira began pleading to the creature and the God-Emperor to show her mercy. The mighty, clawed talon of the beast outstretched and gently slid down the face and breast of Amira, coating her in the blood of her protectors. The specter stood back admiring its work before vanishing right before her eyes. Amira still sobbed, huddled down in a fetal position when the reinforcements of her Honor Guard entered the room to see the horror the creature had left, with no culprit in sight.

**Three black Valkyries** flew at mach speeds, closing the gap between Castle Rock and Bastion III within mere minutes. Anwar stood, surrounded by twelve of 4th company's finest Drop Troopers, fully equipped with grav chutes in the case of a rapid disembarkation. The soldiers stirred nervously awaiting the moment they were told to drop and engage a vile threat even five of the Emperor's holy Space Marines could not fully dispatch.

The closer they approached the Bastion the higher the black storm above seemed to rise, though powerful gusts of wind seemed to be combating the VTOL. The vessels shook as the mighty turbulence tried to halt their rampageous advance. The bastion was now clearly in sight, Anwar gesturing to one of the Navy Officers mounting the heavy bolter to open the metal sliding doors. The wind rushed into the cabin filling it with the smells of toxic pollution, blood and burning flesh. The jets slowed to a halt initiating their vertical landing engines, hovering a km from the bastion. A guardsman wielding a massive green flag adorned with a platinum Imperial Eagle waves at the top of the brass tower: the colors of Skyfall signifying the survivors held out.

"Vertical Landing Procedure completed, Commissar." Spoke the pilot into Anwar's inner ear "We await your orders."

_As if we can't see the bloody thing._ Thought Anwar caustically. He spared a glance down at the base of the tower. A blanket 300 meters out in all direction of black and blue chitinoids swarmed at the Bastion, clawing at the thick metal doors and climbing atop one another in attempt to reach the fleshy contents within, like a rodent attempting to crack open a nut.

"Connect me to Squad Appius' signal pilot." Anwar said with a sneer at the alien

"Right away commissar." Replied the pilot.

After a few seconds of static, a silence cleared and voices could be heard in Anwar's ear.

"Blessed be the God-Emperor!" Shouted Appius gleefully "You're here."

"Indeed, Sergeant." He replied, his sneer still maintained "This is Commissar Anwar of Skyfall PDF. What's your status on the survivors?"

"We have roughly 100 imperial citizens, two full units of Guardsmen, some severely wounded. And of course there leaves Squad Appius."

"Hmm, interesting." Anwar said, uninterestedly, his mind beginning to formulate tactical options "Around how many xenos do you detect out there Sergeant?"

"Uh, a few hundred or so." Appius returned with a confused look, turning to Kreios and giving a frustrated shrug. "Wh-Why do you ask?"

"Well Sergeant it seems we're well out numbered," Anwar began. "And it would seem a rescue at this point in time would not be tactical."

Appius stood confused, looking at the Valkyries with worry before running down into the bastion.

"What are you saying Commissar?" he barked behind grinding teeth as he powered down the stairs, skipping 3 or 4 steps a stride.

"A few dozen losses now could potentially wipe out this vanguard if done properly am I right Sergeant?" Anwar asked with a twisted smile.

"Get everyone into the basement now!" he shouted to Lt. Nazli before returning his finger to his inner-ear vox. "That's awfully cryptic Commissar, regardless I don't like how it sounds."

"It seems we all have to know when to cut our losses for the greater good Sergeant." Anwar said with a forced sigh before tuning his signal to the pilots'. "All vessels arm Hunter-Killer missiles and fire on my order."

"I swear you sick son of a bitch, don't you dare do what you're thinking!" shouted Appius entering the basement. Theo and several Guards worked in tandem, using a crow bar to pry the escape hatch open. Several bent crowbars lay off to the side a symbol of their failure.

"Already been done, Sergeant." He said vindictively "They will sing of your men's sacrifice all over Skyfall once this is over Appius. Ironic, no? In death you become more immortal than in life."

"Listen you self-righteous bastard. There's no need for this! You have the means to save us! To save them!" cried Appius his heart suddenly feeling heavy as the sea of terrified families poured into the basement.

"I'm sorry Sergeant your signal is growing weak." Anwar turned to the co-pilot and gestured to cut the signal.

"Damn it there are children in here, you monster!" Appius screamed his voice cracking in rage. Hearing the cackling static on the other end, Appius ripped out the vox-bead and threw it to the ground.

"What is it sergeant?" Hippolyos asked genuinely concerned.

"They're going to blow the damn place." Appius said softly, those who heard immediately panicked, Lt. Nazli and the others attempted to calm the refugees but it was to no avail, many stormed up the stairs again banging at the doors in a vain effort to survive.

Appius lurched at the door pushing the other guardsmen out of the way and attempting to shove the crowbar deeper into the seal. Hippolyos and Theo helped in tandem until it was almost halfway deep. The three then pulled and pushed in the same directions in effort to pry the hatch open yet again. With the concerted strength of three Astartes, the door finally began to give, the stale air of the corridor pouring into the bunker. People began crowding behind the Marines waiting for the hatch to open, while others trampled over one another in terror trying to open the primary doors.

After seeming millennia long seconds the hatch finally sprung open, Appius breathed a sigh of relief and turned to the civilians and began gesturing to them. Before any could even approach the hatch, a mass of chitin and tendril emerged from the hole firing a spray of deadly spines into the crowd downing a half dozen peoples with its poison barbs. Appius stood stunned, foamy blood leaking from his mouth as he placed a hand on his neck. A thick poison barb penetrated fully past his soft armor and through his throat. Spitting a kilo of blood the Sergeant collapsed, his spinal cord torn and being plagued with the vicious alien viruses. The crowd screamed in panic as the serpent emerged fully, a swarm of the tiny wyrms scattering into the basement around the tail of the beast.

Hippolyos quickly ignited his flamer and doused the creature in promethium at a range so close, the spout of the flamer nearly touched the Ravener's body. The beast screamed in agony as its body was engulfed in potent chemical fire, singeing away its thin flesh and rendering its exoskeleton useless. The blackened monster collapsed beside Appius, dead, and Hippolyos entered the tunnel unloading his canister, forming a barrier of fire between them and the swarm of creatures working their way up the tunnel. After crushing the wyrms with his mighty ceramite boots, Theo dropped down to his dying sergeant, foaming at the mouth as poisons too potent for even an Astartes infected his pure blood. Theo did not know what to do but watch as his valiant leader died in his arms, choking and gagging on his own blood.

"Turn it into a parking lot." Anwar growled to the pilots watching Bastion III unaware of the avoidable chaos and death he had caused within it. A second after his order, six high-powered, anti-tank missiles fired from under each wing of the Valkyries, targeting the mass of the Bastion with infrared sensors. Kreios spout a curse as he saw the missiles shooting towards him at break-neck speed. He attempted to order the troops to take cover but it was completely futile. Before the orders left his lips, the missiles had stuck the side of the mighty, ancient Bastion; the penetrating tips tearing though decimeters of steel before reaching the inside of bunker, where the primary explosive detonated. Every floor of the Bastion caught fire immediately engulfing the survivors in flame and incinerating them before they had even felt pain. Plasma cores and power generators exploded throughout causing the bastion to begin exploding outward violently. Less than 5 seconds after penetration the entire bastion erupted into a blaze engulfing the two-hundred or more xenos that surrounded it, torching them all with ease leaving nothing more than blackened husks.

Ten seconds after the detonation passed the ruins of Bastion III and scalded remains of its inhabitants rain down upon the entire encampment. Only a demolished foundation of the once great bastion remains, smoldering with the intense head of its destruction and fueled by the corpses of the innocents within. Anwar grimaced, feeling a bit of success.

"Alright men, how was that for a drop mission?" he said with a disturbing grin "Drinks on me tonight, boys!"

The ignorant and obedient soldiers applauded a bit in response.

"Take us home then." He said into his vox, the pilots immediately responding with action. The Valkyries pivoted in place and engaged their primary thrusters, shooting off toward Castle Rock leaving the remains of their heinous act behind them. "Connect me to Castle Rock, co-pilot." He ordered.

A few seconds of static passed before they were connected to the primary vox center. After several more seconds Captain Leon, Colonel Cyprian and Commander Tahmid were connected to the line.

"Strike Wing this is Castle Rock, do you read?" Tahmid spoke.

"Castle Rock this is Strike Wing, reading loud and clear" Opened Anwar "I have grave news to deliver."

He was met with only silence knowing he had a captive audience.

"The bastion was lost upon arrival, my lords." He lied convincingly "They were overrun; we had no choice but to destroy it in hopes to spare those still alive inside a quick death. In the process, the alien foe has been completely eradicated. We are in the clear for now, my lords. I-I am so sorry, my lords. There was nothing more I could have done."

Silence was still deafening on the other end. Tahmid and Cyprian feeling the grievous loss of the civilians and the PDF, Leon held himself up against the hololith, his weight angling it slightly in a way it shouldn't. Leon was fit with rage, allowing such an action to be taken so recklessly by his friend. Appius' death now lay heavy on his conscious leaving him incapable of speaking.

"You served the Imperium well, Commissar." Tahmid spoke for Leon "We will all weep and pray for those lost today."

Having been spoken for, Leon left the rotunda in silence. The deaths of so many of his loyal companions and friends in one day was hard to take as it was, but knowing this was only the beginning filled Leon with the debilitating feeling of his lack of leadership. _Perhaps Abdul deserves this position more than I._ He thought, his pride shattered.

"Your words are meaningful, my Commander." Anwar said with faux sorrow "We are on route now."

"See you when you soon, Anwar." Tahmid replied signaling to kill the signal.

Anwar sat down next to one of the over prepared soldiers, lying against the uncomfortable seating, feeling triumphant having dispatched an entire alien order without having to put boots on the ground. His peaceful demeanor was interrupted when the ship suddenly lurched to a crawl. His vox crackled back to life; it was the pilot.

"Commissar the storm has touched down in front of us. There doesn't appear to be any way around." He said awaiting instruction.

"So?" questioned Anwar standing up again "Go through! I thought you were experienced pilots of the Imperial Navy!"

"Aye, Commissar." Replied the pilot embarrassedly, the vessels picking up speed again and entering the thick storm clouds. After only a few seconds in the storm the jet began shaking and shuttering. Anwar told the men to close the doors to reduce turbulence. Still the vessel shook violently, forcing Anwar to grab one of the Kevlar straps that line the roof. He smiled and laughed a bit, as if enjoying the ride. He looked at one of the drop troops, whom appeared to be quite nervous.

"What's a matter, Hun?" he said with a grin, still holding on as the ship shook violently again.

"This is some mighty severe turbulence." She said worriedly "We've never had anything like this before."

"Don't worry, ladies and gentlemen." He said turning his back to the soldiers and looking at the front of the jet "I've been on dozens of these things on plenty of different worlds. This is completely normal!"

Hair-raising screams and the crushing of metal filled Anwar's ear, before he could raise his hand to his ear to respond to the pilots, a black, bony talon as long as the ship was tall tore through the front of the ship. In a millisecond of panic, Anwar's eyes widened. The talon struck Anwar severing him down the center, slicing through bones, cartilage and organs as if they were the softest butter. A fount of gore and blood spattered the passengers as the talon continued its path down the length of the ship, a wall of fire following close behind it. The other pilots and passengers watched in horror as the command plane was split in half by a massive, flying blur. The thing moved so fast and was concealed so heavily by the storm no one could make out what it was. Both halves of the command plane exploded in horrible spectacle before falling into the abyss of black clouds below.

The vox at Central Command crackled back to life, the distressed voice of a co-pilot flooding the waves. Tahmid and Cyprian now engaged in a different conversation turned to the Vox-caster. They rushed to him, Tahmid picking up the headset and listening to the grim report.

"Command vessel is down!" shouted the co-pilot "I repeat! Command vessel is down! Oh God-Emperor they're everywhere!"

The rest of the cast was terrifying, the sound of gunfire and screams the only thing tangible and audible as Tahmid continued to listen in horror.

The gunners of the ship to the right swung open their doors, a horde of black and blue creatures, much like the gaunt ground soldier, flew around them on orange, bat-like wings. The gunners began unloading volleys of powerful heavy bolter fire into the winged monsters as they swooped around, firing their insidious bio-weapons at the gunships. The massive bolts hit the chitinous abominations and tore them to ribbons, knocking them out of the sky permanently. As the two ships thinned out the menace with their powerful weapons a second brood of massive 4 meter tall beasts baring similar bat-like wings, flew around the vessels, using massive talons the shape of hands to tear massive gouges from the ships. One such creature landed on a heavy bolter of the left most ship, digging its massive claw into the gunner's chest with ease and throwing him out into the storm behind it. The guard passengers unleashed their las fire into the monster, devastating its wing membranes and knocking it from its perch, doomed to fall to its death.

As another stood up to man the gun, the smaller creatures began surrounding the high speed vessels, in some cases landing on the hull. A gunner and several passengers of the plane to the right were hit with the vicious bio-weapons. Squirming organisms penetrated their armor with barbed beaks and began burrowing deeper into their bodies. The soldiers thrashed in agony attempting to remove the quickly burrowing living ammunition before it devoured them from the inside out. In response, the vessel to the left maneuvered down in attempt to shake the assailants from the hull. As it rapidly descended, a smaller Tyranid was trapped by the pull of a turbine and was sucked in, causing the turbine to burst into flame. The gunship, now thrown off balance began tumbling out of control; many of the Tyranid flew into the cabin, taking this opportunity of weakness to devour the occupants.

The larger creatures took notice to this, signaling to the smaller ones through a psychic synaptic link to attack the remaining plane's weak point. Six or more of the winged Tyranid flew directly into the turbines of the last plane, causing both to detonate fiercely, severing the wings from the rest of the vessel. Commander Tahmid listened in frozen horror as the passengers and crew screamed in peril as their plane fell to meet a fiery demise at the desert earth bellow.

The line grew silent. Static filled the cast. Tahmid slowly returned the earpiece to the vox-caster and turned to Cyprian, his dark face seeming washed out with horror. Tahmid stared at the Colonel for several long moments, all the while the rocky rotunda remained silent.


	5. V - Hunters in the Shadows

V

Hunters in the Shadow

_**Begin mental log** 1…Officio Assassinorum: Eversor Agent Tiriaq's Log. Imperial Date: 194034.M42. Reporting from Roque System. Planet VII. Roque VII has become a hellish landscape. The forces of Chaos have raped the land, doing what they will with her natural beauty. Smoke spires are most likely not supposed to glow that shade of red, at least not any world I've been too anyway. These monsters have utterly destroyed the populace, signs of Imperial life: minimal. Heretical Units: Maximal. Assessing threat level… Threat Rating: Malleus Extremis. Notes: Proceed with caution; numerous occult and renegade marine factions present. Use hostility sparingly. End Mental log._

The assassin named Tiriaq crouched before the heinous threat before him. He blended in perfectly with the dark, despite the grim, red moonlight bearing down upon him. Tiriaq watched as the armored behemoths beneath and their heretical slaves scuttled about, maintaining a camp of horrors. His helm was not like others of his Assassin type; his grey helm was smooth and rounded on all sides, his mouth covered by a black mockery of a skull's mandible. Two baby-blue lenses, sunken in beneath his more prominent helm formed a vicious, constant glare. The hyper advanced lenses scanned all possible faces in the crowd below. Tiriaq watched, observing their movements for hours, so still it's almost as if he was not alive at all.

After several long hours of assessment, Tiriaq finally stood to his full height, easily 2 meters tall or more, the assassin's extensively muscular body was held tightly by his matte black synskin. He was a shadow standing on a building 100 meters above the foe. His body reflected no light, though as he uncoiled his hands the glint of metal could be seen. Each of his fingers ended in long, razor-sharp blades, laced with potent toxins. Flexing momentarily triggered a muscled activated drug injection directly into Tiriaq's blood flow. He closed his eyes and counted back from ten. When he reached zero his eyes opened to a world of clearer more vivid colors. Time slowed to a crawl. Sounds became twenty times as clear and his vision equally as precise. He smiled beneath his mask and let himself rigidly fall forward.

His body, stiff as a board fell one hundred meters down head first and a rapid speed as he was aerodynamically perfected. The warm wind that struck him flowed slowly over his body, crashing against his near naked form like waves to a beach. The mere seconds it took for him to fall felt like minutes each for Tiriaq. He watched as the camp moved along with their vile activities, not one noticing the hunter in the shadows swooping down like a hawk for its prey. Beneath him stand two renegade Space Marines, their armor blood red and scarred from ages of endless battle. Their forearms and gauntlets were black appear as if dipped in black paint. The same effect was for their boots and shins as well as their all black, hornless helm. A trait uncommon for the followers of chaos.

As he descended onto the crimson traitors he slowly rotated his body focusing on the weak portions of the traitor's armor on the left and contemplating exactly how his comrade would react. Space Marines were very alert and had incredibly potent senses. Tiriaq predicted 1.5 seconds and his prey's associate would notice. Tiriaq was now flying feet first at his prey, his claws slowly extending for the kill. As Tiriaq landed his claws dug deep into the helm of his kill, slicing through the thick skull, black carapace and penetrating the vital brain. Tiriaq held his arms firm against the marine, dragging his claws through his power pack and goring his back, lacerating his many organs and obliterating his bones. Tiriaq withdrew his talons and flung them backward; poising himself for a soft landing, spattering tainted blood against the wall behind him.

Landing gracefully, Tiriaq counted the seconds as the marine beside him turned to notice his bloody comrade falling forward. At 1.5 seconds exactly the marine saw the body and Tiriaq was in his peripheral. Before even bringing his hefty bolter to bear, Tiriaq sprung upward, protruding his middle and forefinger from his left hand and thrusting them into the red lenses of the chaos worshiper. The blades glided smoothly through the warrior's eyes and out the back of his helm. Rapidly withdrawing his hand from his victim, Tiriaq broke out into a run, keeping low and to the shadows. Before the second body had fully collapsed Tiriaq was long out of site and continuing on his mission.

**Leon and Ashok** sat in the back of a large grav vehicle as it navigated the growingly chaotic streets of Castle Rock. Ashok smoked his increasingly disappointing Skyfall cigar, blowing the smoke out the rolled down window. The interior was large, at least big enough to be comfortable for one completely armored space marine. The interior was black leather; glowing fluorescent lights lined the underside of each seat, giving the floor an eerie glow. In the center a small table with holsters for drinks and other supplies took up majority of the long vehicle. It was needlessly lavish, even for one such as Leon.

Leon watched the hordes of confused and struggling people in the streets, barely getting out of the way of the prestigious vehicle. Behind them a similar grav vehicle filled with Ashok's personal command squad, equipped and ready for any violence, be it alien or human. Before and behind both vehicles a row of two motorcycles being driven by the white and grey uniformed Castle Rock Enforcers, Castle Rock's personal police force. The people looked disheveled and poverty stricken. The definition between the actually poverty ridden and those who have nothing because of the war was indiscernible at times, though each was a sad sight, with or without context.

It wasn't long until the convoy pulled up to the AdministratumBuilding. This mighty, gaudy capitol building stood brightly above the other "skyscrapers" of Castle Rock. Its mighty jade spires reached up to touch the top of the hollowed out mountain. Each tower was tipped and edged with the most elegantly carved and constructed platinum. Windows that rival even the mightiest cathedrals open entire floors to the scope of the city. Two banners kilometers long sit on either side of the building, woven from the finest jade colored fabrics and trimmed with more platinum spun into fibers and woven into eloquent patterns. At the center of the left tapestry the traditional emblem of the Imperial Aquila is adorned at the center. The heart of the eagle was the same green forming a perfect circle, at the center of the circle the jagged, High Gothic "A" of the Administratum. The right banner was quite different, the symbol, also mostly woven in platinum was a symbol Leon did not recognize, and assumed it was the planetary symbol for Skyfall. The symbol was a large, grid like sphere, as if imitating a globe. Within the sphere three diamond shapes, each a different color, were laid in a specific "V" pattern.

"I've been meaning to ask, Commander," Leon spoke for the first time since entering the car. "What is with all the silver? It seems your entire town is coated in it."

"It's not silver it's platinum." Ashok corrected his voice monotone and tired from the gruesome events of yesterday "It's our planet's primary resource and largest export. We put the damn thing in everything. Vehicles, weapons, computers, clothing. You name it we put that expensive shit in it."

As they talked the convoy entered the massive gates of the Administratum's courtyard. All around them, easily thousands of protesting and furious civilians fought at the platinum coated guards, attempting to gain access to the building and get a piece of the greedy adepts and politicians within. Their vehicle itself was bombarded with refuse and rotted food. Leon still glancing at the civilians saw the masses giving unruly gestures and shouting the vilest curses at the Captain's black, shady grav car. Normally taken aback by such behavior, Leon understood at this time; _Things are beyond hellish. _He thought_ These people deserve much better than this Tyranid scum. _

The convoy came to a halt at the main driveway before the many granite steps that lead to the massive ebony doors of the Capitol. The servitor driver exited the vehicle and limped to the door; his metallic components too coated in the seemingly plentiful element and was wearing a jade suit, unusual attire for a servitor but none the less unexpected. The machine-man opened the door and bowed to his masters as they exited. Ashok was first to exit, the roars of anger and fiery rebellion only seemed to be fanned by his presence. He smiled smugly and tugged at his robes.

"Always good to receive a warm welcome." He said sarcastically as a dirty can flew at him striking him in the head and knocking his sunshades off.

"Back off!" shouted one of his Soldiers's raising his lasgun at the crowd and receiving no reaction.

"Its fine, lad." Ashok said picking up his shades "Don't waste your breath."

The command squad still aimed their guns at the horde of dissidents awaiting retaliation as Leon exited the vehicle. The bulky marine had some issues standing up out of the low riding vehicle, the grav thruster struggling to keep his side of the vehicle balanced as he rose. Leon now stood at his full height, he was not wearing his helm or his hood but his size and his mighty ancient suit of power armor seemed to strike a fear of the Emperor's wrath into the agitators. The crowd grew silent and several seemed to flee, be it from respect or fear. The crowd remained so until they had entered the building.

Upon approaching the tops of the steps, They were met by roughly a half dozen sparkling Honor Guard, their helmets adorning a smooth, mirror-like platinum visor, rendering others incapable of determining their face.

"I'm sorry, gentlemen." Spoke the man in the center "You'll have to relinquish your weapons. Governesses orders."

Grunting in frustration, Ashok removed his elaborately embroidered chainsword scabbard and handed the weapon over as well as the holster with his antiquated plasma pistol. Ashok then passed the soldier to where two other Guard were carrying metal scanners. Leon began walking with Ashok but was stopped by a rather daring hand on his elbow. Turning to look at the man, he seemed to reel back a bit and his voice shriveled like a grape in the sun.

"I-I'm sorry, m-my lord." He stammered "Governess's orders, you must relinquish your weapon to the Honor Guard."

"Son, this weapon is older than your whole lineage." Leon retorted.

"It's protocol, lord Astartes." Squeaked another female Guard.

"Alright then." He said staring down at the Guards and holding his arms out wide "Take it from me."

The two Honor Guard looked at each other for several long seconds; neither dare make a move to take the mighty Astartes' relic.

"I didn't think so." Leon said arrogantly turning to the doors. Meanwhile, Ashok stood, trying to repeatedly empty his pockets of any possible metal items he has including his cigar tin, wallet and pocket chrono.

"Are you about done yet?" he barked at the Guard, who continually waved the wands up and down his body.

"You appear to be all clear, Commander." He finally said standing at attention "You're permitted to enter."

The soldier then turned and looked up to the Captain before looking past him to see the other two soldiers shaking their heads.

"So you going to frisk me, boy?" he spat

"No, my lord," the Guard replied attempting to maintain his cool "You're permitted to enter, my lord."

The two commanders of two very different calibers passed by the security and made their way into the grand hall, the massive ebony doors slamming shut behind them.

"How often does shit like that happen?" Ashok said, pocketing his now extinguished cigar

"Less than you'd think, but more often than you'd hope." The goliath replied

"And it pays off…" continued Ashok

"Every damn time." Leon laughed.

The enormous entryway of the building was laid with the finest marble and granite for the floors and walls. Gaudy symbols of Imperial Governments and Matriarchy adorn every corner of the impressive building. A massive marble staircase follows along the walls, curving up to the other floors. The vaulted ceiling stretches for a kilometer or two before the upper floors come into play. A mighty chandelier made of the rarest crystals dangles from the ceiling, shining bright light through a matrix of prisms.

Coming down the staircase, a group of prestigious looking individuals accompanied by a collection of several platinum Honor Guard appeared to the two commanders. At the head of the group of pungently smug individuals stood a dark skinned man with a bionic eye, his head wrapped in a golden shawl.

"Director Avahkian, I'm assuming?" Leon said as the group approached.

"Yes Indeed, and I assume you are Captain Leon, no?" replied the Director waving his fellow dignitaries off, the Honor Guard staying close to the Director. "And please, call me Ahmet; there are far too many more serious matters to focus on than titles and formality."

"Agreed." Said Leon

"Good to see you again, Ahmet." Spoke Ashok, feeling somewhat left out. "I just wish it could be on a lighter hearted occasion."

"As do we all my friend." The thick accented man said solemnly. "Though you men didn't take all this time out of your busy schedules to come speak with an old politician did you? This way."

Ahmet lead the two generals up the stair case for several flights, Ashok having to take several short breaks before they reached the top. The railings of the stair case were made of fine woods and metals, each centimeter of the hand rail carved meticulously by the finest artisans money can afford. Leon admired it as he climbed feeling the details with his sensitive gauntlets. Before long they had reached the Governess's office. As they approached a collection of specially uniformed Enforcers accompanied by uniquely equipped servitors flooded the wide hall. The people and their cybernetic servants flitted in and out of the room collecting evidence and samples of the chaos that ensued less than a day ago.

A duo of servitors being lead by an Enforcer wheeled a grav cart out of the room, a white tarp laid over the mass beneath, bloodstains beginning to form about wounds of the corpse.

"May I?" Leon asked approaching the Enforcer, who nodded in compliance. Leon lifted the sheet to see the body of a young woman clad in the signature armor of Skyfall Honor Guard. Her breastplate was punctured; whatever had hit her was a force strong enough to demolish platinum plated Carapace armor and managed to penetrate through her back in a single hit, eviscerating her innards. He dropped the sheet and gestured them to continue.

Leon looked into the room where the other two men already stood. Ashok observed the grisly mayhem with a look of astonishment and bone-chilling dread. The room was as gaudy as the rest of the Governess's palace, though this one had been turned into a gruesome display of savage murder. Gore and blood-spatter coated the walls, paintings and furniture. The remaining corpses were left untouched, awaiting the investigators' approval. They were grey and cold, Rigormorits having long since kicked in.

"Who could have done this?" Ashok asked.

"We have processed some of the security camera's footage, but we have very little to work off of, it appears to be some sort of creature." Replied Ahmet concernedly.

One soldier drew Leon's attention, a soldier who lay almost completely intact, but his face was a ghoulish sight to behold. Leon approached, kneeling down to him and looked at the corpse at first only noticing the wound in his leg, which has long since become pus ridden and bloated due to the powerful toxins. Leon then looked at the head of the soldier; he noticed the massive puncture in his skull, the insides of which appeared hollow. Leon placed two of his gauntleted fingers into the wound as deep he could before removing them. Only coagulated blood came out, not a single fragment of brain. Leon stared at this for several long seconds, rubbing the gooey ichors together with his thumb.

"Ahmet," he said standing and turning to the others. "I need to see that footage."

"Of course," he said handing him a data-slate, Leon dwarfing it with his large hands "I took the liberty of having some of the boys in record keeping transfer it to a data-slate in preparation of your arrival. It turns out one of them worked in the Strategic Collective. This is what he managed to get."

Ashok and Leon observed as Ahmet started the replay of the grainy footage. The camera was fixed in the upper right corner of the room giving a minute vantage point. They witnessed a digitized blur leap from behind Amira's desk and puncture that same woman's chest through her back, launching her to the other end of the room. The blur seemed to move, a man suddenly severed at the midsection. The third knocked down, blood jetting from a massive strike downward at his chest.

The creature suddenly became clear, and Ashok gasped in horror, Leon's worries becoming proved as he saw the creature for what it was. After the Tyranid fired its spine's its stepped out of view before completely leaving the frame. The reinforcements entered and ran to attend the Governess and their fallen comrades. As they enter the digitized blur appears again, the digital camera picking up movement and reflective light only. The blur seems to follow along the left wall, exiting the room undetected.

"What, the _hell_ was that…thing?" Ashok stammered, suddenly feeling nervous and paranoid.

"It's a Lictor," Leon spoke wiping his jaw with his clean hand worriedly "That's what it is."

"What is a lector, Captain?" asked Ahmet.

"_Lictor_, it's Lictor." Leon began, pacing around the room as he talked "It's a visceral killing machine like no other. Tyranid hives form these creatures first and send them to the planet weeks if not months in advance. They act as reconnaissance and assassins. Doing all the wet work to assess and destabilize a population before the invasion even happens."

"Assassin?" question Ashok "This thing had two opportunities to kill the Governess but it didn't. That's a pretty poor assassin if you ask me."

"Yea, you're right. It didn't kill her and that's why it bothers me." Leon says halting in his spot and noticing the black orbs in the upper corners of the room. "Where's the other footage?"

"Other footage?" questioned Ahmet

"Don't play dumb with me Director I'm not in the mood." Snapped Leon "I see four cameras and we only have footage from one, where's the rest?"

"We've been having some issue with the catacombs, technical bugs nothing serious." Ahmet says nervously

"Technical bugs? What kind of technical bugs?" pressed Ashok, seeing through Ahmet's guise.

"There were a series of murders in the Catacombs, matching the methods seen here but not anywhere near this scale. We thought it was gangs from the underhive trying to send a message." Revealed Ahmet, looking extremely distressed.

"How many murders?" grunted Leon placing a palm on scarred his face, refusing to look at the Director.

"Uh, around twenty or so? Is that bad?"

"Twenty?" Leon snapped again

"People are dying during a war and you don't think to tell the PDF?" barked Ashok. "A message was sent alright, this planet is run by a bunch of boneheads!"

"So what do these people have to do with the footage?" Leon ordered, agitated

"Some of the power lines in the catacombs were cut it's been causing major power issues through out the Administration district of Castle Rock. The people killed were mostly electrical engineers. Again, we thought it was the gangs." Replied Ahmet pointing the camera that caught the footage "That camera is on a back up battery incase of a situation like this. The others…"

"Where's the Governess?" Leon said angrily marching out of the room, Ashok hot on his heels.

"I-in her suite on the top level," Ahmet stammered following after the Commanders "But she strictly asked not to be disturbed. She's still very shaken up."

"Tough luck for everyone these days, it seems." Returned Ashok igniting his half-finished cigar. "Your tone is distressing me, Captain. You have something on your mind. Care sharing that with me?"

"This thing isn't an ordinary Lictor." He began "Downing power, killing ratings, murdering guards; those are terror tactics. No this is something much worse."

"Forget I asked then." The commander replied taking puff of his cigar.

"Tyranid hives can form different strains." Continued the Captain ignoring Ashok's sarcasm. "This one, I've seen this before, but only once. It was on Medusa V. It didn't just murder people. It used its abilities to pick off those close to the commanding officers until they were little more than balls of nerve and paranoia. It ruined more tactics than I care to count. The Guardsmen gave it the name 'Deathleaper'. Like some sort of storybook villain."

"So this thing is a Tyranid terrorist?" Ashok asked, huffing and puffing his way up the stairway behind Leon.

"Of sorts, yes." Leon said "But if this thing gets its way it will tear Skyfall apart from the inside out."

**Captain Abdul made** his way down the armament halls of the _Grim Singer_. The massive compartment filled with serfs and personnel attempting to prep weapons and repair damage in preparation of the upcoming hive fleet. Abdul's men knew as well as any the grievous nature of upcoming threat. The bulk of this fleet would be triple if not larger than the vanguard, and the Imperial defense barely survived that. It was in moments of great stress like this that Abdul needed the guidance of a true friend. He was well aware that he would be mad about awaking him before a battle, oh how he enjoyed his rest, but there was nowhere else to turn.

The Invader entered the end of the armament halls, a collection of massive chambers extended to the end of the deck. Each enclosed by massive doors bearing the symbol of the Invaders. Abdul reached the second one on the right and entered the access codes. The pressurized seal hissed and white vapor began pouring out the cracks as the doors slowly split open. Abdul entered the dark chamber, the icy room causing Abdul to see his breath; the freezing air biting at Abdul's tan face and chilling the two service studs in his brow. Though his sealed armor kept his body plenty warm, the presence within the room filled him with a chilling feeling, like seeing a spirit.

Before him stood a hulking figure; a massive emerald machine, standing on two piston driven legs that hold its kilotons for weight. At the center of the boxy machine's main body sit a golden trimmed sarcophagus, a small view hole at the top so that the marine within could see out in times of battle. The machine laid dormant, ice collecting on the edges of its massive ceramite hull. Coils and wires of all sizes connect to the missing arms of the machine and to the sarcophagus itself maintaining the occupant's slumber.

Abdul smiled a bit as he began pressing buttons the Dreadnaught activation console. The coils jerked, and a whirring noise of the machine powering started from a low droning noise to a loud boom. Suddenly thick smoke began jettisoning from the exhaust pipes on the behemoth's back. A loud sigh, delivered through an external vox speaker could be heard. The machine moved, stepping forward slowly, chunks of ice falling from its massive form. It took a second step, as far as the coils would allow it. Abdul stepped in front of the automaton with a grin, his mighty lightening claws held patiently behind his back.

"It's good to see you again, Jiadev." The man within the machine spoke finally "It has been too long."

"Indeed it has, Hisien." Abdul said grinning wider.

**Jiadev Abdul sat** there holding the dead child for what felt like an eternity awaiting death, a bolt pistol pressed tightly against his brow. He heard the hammer drop and the bolt pistol fired as well as the sound of several other weapons. A great pain streaked across Jiadev's forehead, causing him to drop in pain. He lay there still, still breathing. Sparing a glance at the traitor marine, he turned to see the soldier collapse to his knees, the upper half of his head demolished by enemy fire. The bleeding corpse fell over beside Jiadev, spouting blood from its stump of a head.

Still holding the child's corpse, Jiadev held his palm against his scalp, wincing in pain as he touched the wound. Retracting his hand he saw blood, but there was no major wound, only a graze. His head still ringing from the sound of the gunshot, a muffled sound of a voice and the crunching of gravel could be heard. Jiadev looked back and saw Maximus Kodey approaching him holding his power fist against his bleeding neck, his modified storm bolter smoking from the barrel.

"You got lucky there, mate." Kodey seemingly mumbled, looking down at Jiadev. The Invader said nothing; he felt he had nothing to say. Kodey looked at the fallen Ogyrsian child and her mangled family.

"I can not speak for us all, brother." Kodey spoke his voice, however strained and horse from the gunshot wound, seemed soft and reassuring "But you suffer no blame from me."

Kodey shouldered his storm bolter and held out his free hand to Jiadev. He glanced once more at the child before laying her down with her fallen family, all of which who died at his hands. Jiadev grabbed Kodey's crimson vambraces and rose with him.

"There is nothing more you can do for them, brother." Kodey spoke again with a rasp. "What's done is done."

"Are there any others?" Jiadev finally spoke, his voice heavy with sorrow.

"No." replied the raspy voice of Kodey, checking the palm of his power fist to see his advanced physiology had clotted the wound "They're gone, my Redeemers… dead."

"What about Hisien?" Jiadev shouted before bolting to the fallen statue. "Hisien! Hisien are you alive?"

Jiadev began searching through the field of corpses, both Traitor and loyal. Jiadev now saw when he left the statue that the enemy had moved in for an assault, slaughtering the defenders. Placing his hands on his head and screaming in anger, Jiadev felt broken, his morale utterly destroyed. Suddenly a gurgling cough cut through the silence. Jiadev and Kodey rapidly moved to the source. Leaning against the massive granite statue they saw an emerald armored marine, battered and bloody, holding a grievous gunshot wound to his chest.

"Hisien!" Jiadev shouted before feeling great sorrow at the sight of his friends wound. "Hisien! Hang in their, brother, we'll get you help."

"I-I can't f-feel anything." Hisien exclaimed "I-I can't move."

"Then we'll carry your ass out of here!" Jiadev shouted gesturing to Kodey "Help me pick him up we can get him back to the encampment."

"Brother Abdul that's almost 30km from here there's no telling if he'll even last that long." Argued Kodey, helping none the less.

"We have to try." Jiadev said placing the marine's arm over his shoulder "It's what separates us from them."

Jiadev pointed with his head to the fallen traitor marine. A marine in black armor with a helm and shin guards of sliver that seemed to shine blue. The symbol on the gored warrior's shoulder guard was a silver scorpion. A symbol that belonged to their former companions and members of the Edina Council; the Scorpion Guard. These warriors once represented the spirit of vengeance and stood for the Imperium against insurmountable odds. When an enemy of the Imperium invaded an unprotected world the Scorpion Guard would retaliate, driven by His holy wrath. Kodey questioned how something so righteous could become completely lost and corrupted.

"Alright," spoke Jiadev grabbing Kodey's attention again "On my count. 1…2…3!"

The two mighty Astartes grunted as they hefted the full weight of a suit of power armor and the dead weight of the dying marine within. Jiadev picked up Hisien's black cased bolter, tucking it in the crook of his arm and using all his available strength to carry his comrade.

"Th-this is going to r-ruin my whole day." Joke Hisien coughing in pain, causing Jiadev to smile a bit. The three loyalist soldiers pressed on for kilometers, avoiding any of the growing noises of war. They kept to the shadows and avoided open spaces, often cutting through the ruined buildings. As they walked the witnessed the atrocities of the traitors; hundreds of Ogyrsian corpses of all sexes and ages litter the killing fields, scattered amongst them are the bodies of Loyalist and Traitor alike. The men pressed on, trying to ignore the grim, ash covered casualties of this meaningless war.

As the group of entered a half destroyed office building of some sort, the barely conscious Hisien began coughing and gagging, blood dripping from the grill of his rebreather and from underneath his helm. His protectors halted and lowered him to the ground aware he was getting worse.

"Remove his helm, he's vomiting blood." Ordered Kodey ripping the strap off with his power fist letting Jiadev easily remove the helm. Beneath it was a oddly pale faced man, his body draining of his vital fluids every second. He appeared younger than the others, most likely the youngest tactical marine in 7th company. His hair was short and black, his eyes a crystalline hazel, now fluttering and dilated from his injury. Hisien had been inducted as a space marine long after Jiadev, he was always overly cautious and timid, Jiadev helped break him of many of those traits. Part of Jiadev blamed himself now for pressuring his younger Battle-Brother to be so reckless. Perhaps it was going to be his downfall as well.

"He's going into shock," Kodey said opening his eyes and looking at the fully dilated pupil. "And his blood isn't clotting fast enough. He's going to die if we don't get him help soon."

"We're no where near the damn, base!" shouted Jiadev, slapping Hisien's face to keep him conscious "Come on, brother. This is nothing! You've suffered worse!"

"You think I don't know that?" replied Kodey, getting frustrated with the younger marine. "Hell I'm not even sure if we're going the right direction anymore."

Jiadev heard a distinct humming sound of thrusters, charging out into the streets, despite Kodey's protesting shouts. In the rubble of the massive road, Jiadev spotted an emerald gunship flying scouting only a few blocks down the road.

"Hey!" Jiadev shouted raising his bolter into the air and firing several burst shots. "Hey over here!"

"Abdul what the hell are you doing? If that's a traitor ship we're done for!" barked Kodey, shaking the slowly dying Hisien.

"What other option do we have?" Jiadev barked back, firing the rest of the clip into the air. A few seconds after the last shot, the ship halted in its path and pivoted in their direction, the Storm talon gunship speeding toward Jiadev. He stood in the open, completely vulnerable, waving his arms in the air in effort to flag the ship down. To show he was loyalist, Jiadev placed the bolter down and continued waving. Kodey felt the tension rise as the ship approached further, the Invader completely unprotected.

The Invaders' Stormtalon slowed to a stop, and intersection between them. Its nose reared up as it halted and the thrusters on either side of the gunship lowering, putting it into a hover mode. The ship hovered for several moments before Jiadev's inner ear vox unit cackled to life.

"State you designation." The pilot commanded.

"Brother Jiadev Abdul of the Invaders 7th company." He replied loudly "With me is Veteran-Sergeant Maximus Kodey of the Crimson Paladins, and Brother Hisien, also of the Invaders. He is extremely wounded, we need medical evac immediately!"

The line stayed silent for several minutes, the green gunship hovering ominously across from him.

"Come on, come on." Jiadev muttered beneath his breath, nervously.

"Affirmative, Brother Abdul." The pilot replied "Help is on the way."

Jiadev sighed in a moment of relief as the gunship flew up over the buildings and powered toward its direction of origin. Not ten minutes after the encounter with the Stormtalon, a medicae Rhino baring the colors of the Invaders powered through the terrain. The rhino crushed its way carelessly into the office building crushing a traitor's corpse with ease. The skilled pilot pivoted the vehicle before its halt, the rear hatch bursting open, an Apothecary adorned in his signature white armor, a combat squad of Loyalist marines following in close suit, and two chapter Serfs emerged, the surfs pushing an industrial gurney made for the space marines and their bulky armor. The serfs, the apothecary, Jiadev and Kodey all worked together, lifting Hisien onto the gurney before pushing him into the rhino. As the door shut, the whirring chainblade attached to the Apothecary's Narthecium could be heard sawing into Hisien's shattered breastplate. The rhino peeled off back to the encampment, leaving the two warriors coughing in it's the grey dust.

**Two well-armed, platinum** guards stood on either side of the eloquent, white, wooden door to the Governess's residence. A carved mural of the winged Saint Anais in her hour of martyr during the Kaurava Crusades was depicted on the 5 meter tall double doors. With Captain Leon approaching rapidly, a rather unpleasant look on his scarred but otherwise striking face, the two guards attempted to intercept.

"My Lord, you are not allowed access to the Governess's quarters-" One began to speak. Leon with ease pushed the Guard aside and approached the door. His mighty gauntlet engulfed the golden handle, breaking the antiquated lock with a single turn of his wrist. Leon pushed the gaudy door open and entered the lavish chamber, the winded Commander Tahmid close behind. Amira jumped as the two commanders barged in, standing in haste to see who intruded. She let out a sigh of relief, placing her delicate hand on her rapidly beating heart and sheepishly disposing of a lho-stick into an ashtray with her other hand.

"Oh Captain Leon I was not expecting you." She said seemingly out of breath. She was not a nearly as well kept or dignified as she normally looked. She wore only a very casual, relaxation robe. Bags were heavy and dark beneath her eyes, with no indication to cover it up cosmetically. As well, her skin was bare of any obvious attempts to remove or replace her facial make-up, rendering her normally russet skin oddly pallid. Her long black hair was left down and didn't appear to even be brushed. She bowed her head politely attempting to still seem cordial despite her appearance and demeanor.

"A pleasure to see you, as well, Commander." She continued with a bright, if not forced, smile.

"As always, my lady." Ashok said flirtatiously with a bow at the waist.

"I apologize to barge in Governess," Leon said quickly throwing his hands up in the sign of the Aquila. He turned to Ashok who was finishing his bow. Awkwardly, Leon lowered his hands to his sides and bowed at the waist as well, as to not offend the Governess's customs. "But I need to speak with you about yesterday's events."

"Ah," she said, the memories of the horror imbedded deep into the forefront of her mind. "Would you care for a drink?"

Amira crossed to the left wall of the room, passing through the arrangement of pristine white couches in the front room. She approached a small divot with a mini-bar made of granite imbedded in it. She opened a crystal bottle filled with a ruby liquid and poured some of the contents into a, doubtlessly costly, crystal glass.

"With all do respect Governess," Leon began slowly moving toward her "But we are very short on time as it is, and there are vital needs we must discuss."

"Well then its only customary we share it over a drink." She said pouring two more glasses of the thick, reddish liquor. "You are in my house after all you must follow my rules."

Amira handed the captain his drink and moved to Ashok, handing him one as well. Leon met eyes with Ashok, a look of growing frustration clearly visible. Ashok, shrugged and took a sip of the potent fluid, his face too construed with confusion. The Governess's sat down crossing her slender legs gracefully and sipping her liquor. She gestured to the two commanders to sit on the apish couches across from her. Ashok sat down without question, Leon stood there frozen in the thought of the Governess's strange attitude.

"I doubt those your furnishings could-" began Leon, suddenly self-conscious of his size.

"I insist, Captain." Amira Persisted.

Aware there was no way to win with this woman unless he followed her every whim, Leon crossed to the couches and hesitantly sat down, the antique wood splintering under his weight. Amira sipped her drink and admired the fluid spinning it around to test the legs.

"Alright then," Leon said still a bit puzzled but still pressing the matter at hand "We… I have reason to believe-"

"Damn this is good." Amira spoke up cutting off Leon as if on purpose "Donation from Canoness Brigitta. The Order of the Valorous Heart had stationed themselves here after a very nasty crusade in order to heal and return to battle. The Canoness gave me this as a token of her thanks; Alto Wine made from the finest fruits available on Ophillia VII and aged to perfection. Have you tried yours yet Captain, it's quite-"

"Governess!" barked Leon angrily attempting to stop her digression, startling both Amira and Ashok. Leon cleared his throat and continued more calmly. "Apologies but you were rambling. I completely understand why you're upset, my lady-"

"Upset?" Amira turned to the Captain, placing her wine down looking as if finding his ignorance amusing "You think I'm _upset_?"

The diplomat stood and began pacing, searching for her pack of lho-sticks. She retrieved one and lit it, turning to the captain, shaking with rage.

"Upset, is when the tithe is a unit short and I get a nasty message from the Adeptus Terra." She began, her voice on the verge of breaking "Upset is when there's an accident on the highway and I'm going to be late for an important engagement. Upset is when they purchase the wrong type of wine for a very important ball. This…"

Amira shook her head taking a draw of her lho-stick, her eyes welting with tears. She turned away from the commanders so they could not see her in her moment of most human weakness.

"This is not upset." She said softly, fighting back the urge to cry.

Leon and Ashok held their heads low. Both soldiers of grim battle, they so often forgot the effect of these events on the civil populace. Placing his drink down, Leon stood the wood creaking as he rose. He approached the lithe woman, placing his mighty gauntlet hesitantly on her shoulder. She turned slightly, her eyes bloodshot.

"Ma'am I cannot ever begin to understand what you're feeling." He admitted. "I am a warrior surrounded by death from a very young age. Suffering is in my blood. But its not in yours, you are much more delicate than that."

Leon pulled her chin toward him, turning her so he was looking into her red eyes. The towering marine knelt down so she was looking at down at him only slightly.

"You and your people are not meant for this," he continued, speaking softly "And they are just as terrified as you. It is of utmost importance that you maintain yourself at this time. It may seem a lofty thing to ask for but your people need you."

"That being said," Leon continued his face forming to a frown "This creature, this is not an ordinary creature. It's been called many things but one that always remains is Deathleaper. It is not going to kill you, it has no gain from that. Its duty, its sole reason for existence is to destabilize the population, to cause panic, fear and paranoia. All things you undoubtedly feel right now. You cannot let these emotions win. If you let this creature's presence get the better of you it gets what it wants, what the entire Hive wants. You must stay strong. You _must _if not for your own sanity for the people of your world."

"What if I can't?" she began to sob feeling the weight of his statement "How can I stay vigilant with that things slaughtering those around me, and what if I'm not fit to lead during a war."

"You are." He said standing. "I know it to be true. You are not just some woman of Skyfall, you are _the_ woman of Skyfall. You'd not be here if you weren't."

"Thank you, Captain." She said wiping her tears and smiling "That was very nice to hear for once."

"I have spoken to the others in the Headquarters' Staff. Captain Abdul, Colonel Cyprian, Commander Tahmid and my self are requisitioning a squad of our best men each to guard the city, yourself and your cabinet. In addition we suggest an early nightly curfew for the citizens and patrols of 3 or more Enforcers and Guard, no less. The Deathleaper doesn't attack large groups unless it feels it has an advantage. Its smart, but its still an animal, and I believe we can outwit this thing."

Amira nodded in compliance, biting her lip nervously in thought.

"You're right, Captain. I will put the orders in immediately. Nightly watch will be doubled- no tripled! I refuse to let my city fall out of my grasp." She said feeling slightly more confident.

Leon let a smile show in the corner of his mouth at her change in tone and body language.

"Alright then," he said bowing at the waist. "With that, we should leave you to your duties."

Leon turned to exit the room, his cream robes drifting behind his stride. Ashok stood and bowed as well giving the Governess a warming smile before following the Space Marine out the lavish doorway. The Guards turned their heads into the room attempting to avoid looking directly at the more exposed and less dignified Governess.

"You alright, my lady?" one said concernedly

"Quite, yes." She said shortly, "Thank you, and please close my chamber, will you?"

With an echoing slam, the doors shut, Amira leaning against the granite island in her kitchenette and letting go a quivering sigh. She continued to breathe sporadically, pacing a bit rapidly smoking her lho-stick. Her eyes darted around the room as she marched without rhyme, nor reason. She finally arrived at the small living room area, quickly drinking the remainder of her wine without pause for flavor. She then grabbed both the commanders' drinks, finishing Tahmid's in a gulp and proceeding on to Leon's.

Halfway through the glass her eyes darted to her left. She choked, spitting wine and stumbling. She looked up at the corner of her room, shaking in dread but refusing to look away as well. She seemed to boil with fear and rage simultaneously.

"They're gone, okay?" she snapped with rising fury and welting tears "They're gone! Leave! Please!"

The Governess screamed in panicked wrath, tossing the glass at the corner of the room. The crystalline goblet shattering against something, spilling the remainder of the auburn fluid through out the room. Amira dropped to her knees, crying uncontrollably, hiding what she saw with her hands, praying to the Emperor quietly. An organic chirping noise like that of a baritone cricket came from the emptiness of the left wall. Amira looked up and saw the two rows of three bright blue eyes staring at her as they had been for the past five hours or longer. The form of the creature outlined due to a thin layer of auburn wine spattered against it.

"What do you want from me!?" she bellowed. It chirped again as if in response. The two guards burst into the room and guttural screams of death echoed through the halls.

**Tiriaq danced through** the group of heretics swinging his talons elegantly, cleaving limbs off with every strike. Their skill so unmatched it was almost comical to Tiriaq. The cultists wildly swung their clubs and knives and fired their primitive auto-pistols in an effort to hit the dancing shadow, each attempt a failure. Tiriaq dodged and leapt over every swing with grace immediately taking advantage of the opening for attack; puncturing chests, cleaving off portions of their arms and finally silencing them with a ginger deathblow to the cranium.

Spinning on the balls of his feet and bringing his claws to bear, Tiriaq stopped, holding himself prepared for the cultists' retaliation: there was none. The corpses of roughly ten sub-par thugs collapsed seemingly all at once, gushing gouts of blood from their stumps and grievous lacerations. He watched as the head from his last kill landed beside its falling owner, a stump jetting with blood where the cranium should be.

Raising his arms and quickly snapping them down to clear the adamantine claws of blood, Tiriaq turned away and darted down his path. He ran for several more minutes, feeling like hours in his drug educed state. Hearing voices off in the distance, he halted and held himself tightly around the corner of a near-by building. The voices became clearer and completely audible, without seeing them he could tell the demeanor of each of the three men by voice alone; one choleric and easily set-off, most likely a warrior through and through. Another was elegant and sanguine, a pleasure cultist if there ever was one. Lastly was a sophisticated and educated tone, a scholar or sorcerer. Each spoke with an air of combative authority; all of them were leaders of one sort or another, each of them holding distain for one another.

Turning only a degree to give himself a view, he could see they were exactly as predicted; a red warrior, a black thrill-seeker, and a blue Sorcerer. Each wore a suit of desecrated Space Marine armor, each gaudily adorned with the different symbols and trophies of their patron gods. It sickened Tiriaq.

"It seems our… my master has been delayed in his return here for around four more short weeks." Spoke the sorcerer. "It will be most difficult to continue without him. But we must proceed. We are pressed for time gravely"

"Indeed," replied the cultist of excess "As it stands several of our men have been disappearing. I believe we are already in the eye of the Hive Fleet."

"Without a doubt," added the Warrior "I've done my best to prepare my warriors for a Genestealer incursion but we alone cannot stand against a hive fleet."

"No need to worry." The Sorcerer said assumingly "As long as the Corpse-God Worshipers are focused with Skyfall the Hive Fleet will be more than pre-occupied. By the time the hive shifts focus we'll be long gone"

"Let's just hope the Imperial dogs aren't completely devoured before we get our chance to strike." The cultist laughed.

The three champions of Chaos went their separate ways, the Sorcerer heading toward Tiriaq. The assassin quickly blended back against the shadows, slowing his breath to a shallow halt. Several seconds after the Sorcerer passed, Tiriaq released his breath. The Sorcerer appeared to be holding a small rectangular box in the crook of his arm. He watched the Sorcerer enter a building a few hundred meters away, a pair of blue armored behemoths guarding the doorway.

_Begin Mental Log 7…Officio Assassinorum: Eversor Agent Tiriaq's log… My suspicions have been confirmed; Roque VII is now confirmed as a Genestealer infested world. Increase Threat Rating to Malleus Extremis/Xenos Extremis. Overall Threat Rating: Majoris Terminus. I've spotted what I believe to be Sorcerer Valerio. I also overheard a conversation involving two other Chaos Captains; they predict Sorcerer Lord Nowell Samuels' arrival in four weeks. Assuming they're using Roque VII time that puts his arrival at roughly 320-326034.M42. That's our window. Following suspect sorcerer into a refinery office, carrying a box, looked important. End Log._

Tiriaq pressed his heels against the wall he leaned upon, leaping with great speed and height to a nearby light pole. Perched atop it, he scanned the faces of those near. Only two within visible line of sight were the blue Space Marines Guarding his entrance. With another bounding leap, Tiriaq landed on an olden generator shack, abandoned long before the traitors attacked Roque VII. The clamor of his landing attracted the attention of the blue soldiers. The two looked at each other seeming to communicate silently and one approached the origin of the noise.

Thinking quickly, Tiriaq dropped down, his body flat with the roof of the shack. The marine now stood before the shack, ignorant to the assassin's position. The goliath warrior booted down the sealed metal door, entering the generator room and inspecting the contents, aiming down the iron sights of his boltgun all the while. The remaining soldier stood vigilant and unmoving beneath the spotlight. With a vast leap, Tiriaq jumped from the shack silently and landed a few meters from the marine, immediately bursting into a sprint. The marine reacted quicker than he expected, immediately turning to Tiriaq and firing a burst shot of enchanted bolts. Each shot was pin-point accurate but Tiriaq could easily dodge every shot. After a mere three second charge, Tiriaq lunged his blades into the breast plate of the behemoth, slamming his weight against the metal door. Instead of collapsing in deathly throes or even screaming in pain, the warrior just stood straight again and withdrew its combat blade, swiping it down at Tiriaq.

The assassin quickly withdrew his talons and ducked from the arc of the blade. As he rose again, Tiriaq swiped his claws upward, slashing massive gouges into the blue and gold breast plate of the traitor marine. Again, surviving wounds a mortal should not, the warrior simply stood again and prepared to strike. As the seemingly immortal marine raised its arm to strike, Tiriaq swiped his claws horizontally, obliterating the visor of the automaton's elegant helm. At last the warrior collapsed, not a drop of blood present. The warrior from the shack began marching toward Tiriaq, a hideous, terrifying screech coming from its external vox and firing wide with his bolter. The assassin quickly darted into the office building, willing to take his chances with what was inside than face any reinforcement of those bizarre soldiers.

Within lay a cold, damp and dark office; its contents scattered about, completely untouched for months and collecting dust. Sparing no time, Tiriaq dug his claws into a nearby metal desk and dragged its bulk infront of the metal door. Seconds later the door was slammed against, only cracking a bit, the angry hiss of the automaton seeping through the opening. Tiriaq bolted for cover huddling against the shadows. The door was slammed against several more times, louder and more violently slow each attempt. In a few moments, a contingent of Tzeentchian warriors burst through the door, knocking the desk aside and began patrolling for the infiltrator. The lumbering behemoths walked down each corridor of desks in their search. Tiriaq looked around the room rapidly moving very subtling and making no noise. His eyes landed upon a cracked door against the far wall, the word "Basement" embedded in its bulk. It was his best chance for escape.

Tiriaq waited for the spectral soldiers to make another pass and leapt softly from his shadowy haven to another collection of shadow. In a moment he was at the door. As the door creaked open, one of the warriors heard the sharp noise and turned rapidly, bringing his bolter up to the sound. He saw only a closed basement door, and continued his search.

Within the room, Tiriaq took deep, calculated breaths, slowing his heart rate back down and, again, injecting his drugs into his system. As he waited for his new dose to take hold he looked down the stairway to see nothing but a void of shadow so dark even his night vision enhanced helmet could not penetrate farther than a meter or two. With nowhere else to run and no sight of Valerio outside, Tiriaq readied his talons and descended slowly into the darkness.


End file.
